


Turning Tricks

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunter Dean, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Non-Hunter Sam, Prostitute Dean, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sexy Times, sam and dean are not brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a thing for his smokin’ hot new neighbor, and it’s clear that Dean returns the favor. It shouldn’t be complicated. It wouldn’t be complicated, except that Sam never pays for it, and Dean never gives it up for free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s1114.photobucket.com/albums/k537/virtualpersonal/story%20art/?action=view&current=bannerwithtext.jpg)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Co-written with Brimstonegold
> 
> CHECK OUT MILDLY SPOILERY VID FOR THE FIC MADE BY ASH48 - http://vimeo.com/64522304

Sam got into the elevator of the Century City high rise apartment building. Punching the button on his way inside, he moved to the back and made room for the other people filtering in. He was home early, but that didn’t mean he was done working. Shifting his heavy briefcase from one hand to the other, he leaned forward, threading his hand between other passengers, to hit the “close doors” button.

His arm brushed across someone’s chest, and when he looked to his right, Sam found himself staring into startling green eyes. It was the guy who’d moved in across the hall from him a couple of weeks back.

Sensing he’d been staring too long, Sam almost pulled his gaze away. _Almost._ There was a flicker of something in the guy’s eyes that made it impossible to look away. Sam felt warmth creeping up his body. 

Subconscious alarms rang in his head. The guy was a player. A total player. Sam had already seen lots of different guys walking in and out of his apartment. At least two of them had been pulling up their zippers or getting their clothes together as they entered the hallway. 

Still... knowing the guy was probably all sorts of trouble didn’t stop Sam from holding his breath, or noticing how damned hot the guy was,, or from forgetting everyone else on the elevator.

Dean liked the way the good looking guy from across the hall was staring at him. He was even blushing a little, which Dean thought was just adorable. “That’s a big suitcase you’ve got,” he said, glancing down but decidedly not looking at the suitcase and instead letting his gaze linger on the guy’s groin, before lifting his eyes to meet blue-green-hazel eyes that practically defied description.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. Licking his lips, he swallowed. “Yeah. Big.” Under the circumstances, he didn’t add that it was ‘light reading sure to put anyone else to sleep.’ “So, you’re all settled in? I live across from you. Sam Colt,” he said, extending his hand.

“Mostly settled in. Though I seem to be doing a little unpacking every night.” Dean shook the man’s hand. “Winchester. Like the rifle. Dean Winchester,” he said, holding on to the man’s hand an extra half-second. “And believe me. I noticed. That you live across from me.”

After a brief smile, Dean continued, “I don’t know about you, but one thing I really like about this place is the amazing view from my apartment. How about you. You like what you see?”

“Oh yeah. My place looks over the Avenue of the Sta...” The other shoe dropped and Sam felt like an idiot. Instead of trying to fix it, he just gave Dean a grin and a nod. 

The elevator stopped a few times and more people got off. People moved around, blocking Sam’s view for a moment, but when they shifted over, he wasn’t the only one still looking. 

When the elevator arrived at his floor, Dean strolled off, making certain to give anyone who was looking a good view of his tightly clad ass. When the doors hissed shut, he cast his gaze over his shoulder at Sam. “Knock if you need something. Anything at all.” He gave a wink and then began a casual walk toward his apartment, digging out his key in the process.

Sam stood for a long moment, watching Dean, until he realized he was behaving like some high school kid. Besides, did he really want to be caught staring at the guy’s ass? 

Shaking his head at himself, Sam followed. By the time he got to his apartment, Dean had his door open but hadn’t walked in yet. As Sam unlocked his own door, the hallway felt a little crowded, which was completely ridiculous. 

“See you around. Dr. Winchester,” Sam said, walking in and closing the door behind him. On one occasion, he’d seen Dean walking someone to the elevator. The guy had called Dean ‘doc,’ and Sam had noticed the stethoscope hanging from Dean’s neck. 

Dean cocked an eyebrow and turned as Sam was closing the door. “Doctor?” he murmured, then began chuckling as he walked into his apartment and shut the door. Although most people’s days were finishing, his was just beginning. He turned the music on, checked the schedule on his laptop, took a quick shower and shaved, getting ready for the evening   
* * *

 

[A few nights later]

Jake was a trainer in a local gym and was Dean’s first appointment. He wanted Dean to be in the middle of a workout when he arrived, so Dean slipped into the gym in a t-shirt and gray shorts. After stretching out, he sat down on the weight machine and began a nice slow workout, keeping an eye on the door.

Downing his carrot juice with a single shot of wheatgrass, Sam walked into the gym, nodded at the receptionist and tossed the paper cup into a trash receptacle. He was halfway to the weight machines when he noticed a familiar figure, with fewer clothes on than usual, working up a sweat. 

Their eyes met and deciding it would be rude not to say hello, Sam crossed over to Dean. “Hey,” he gave a friendly grin. “So I haven’t seen you here before. Did you join?” 

Dean smiled at his neighbor...Colt... that was his name, Sam Colt. “I’m here on a guest membership. If Jake likes working with me, it might become a regular habit,” he said, his gaze slowly drifting down Sam’s body before returning to his beautiful eyes. “Even if it doesn’t, I might have to start coming here. So what about you? Do you come here often, Mr. Colt?” he said flirting lightly with the guy.

“Mr. Colt,” Sam laughed. “Yeah. This is probably the most normal hour you’ll find me here. Usually get here either real early, like before the sun’s up, or late.” Sam watched for another fraction of a moment as he tried to make out whether Dean was flirting, or whether it was just his imagination. “I don’t see why Jake wouldn’t want to be your trainer. The place might look a little...” he gestured, “but they’re really down to earth. And you look like you’re in good enough shape to take anything he can dish out.” Sam’s gaze roved over Dean. Yeah... good shape was an understatement.

“I’ll be sure to note your hours in my calendar. That way, I’ll know someone when I’m here,” Dean said with a wink. “And I hope I’m in good enough shape to take anything Jake can dish out. I try hard for that and haven’t failed yet.” Seeing Sam looking him over, Dean made sure to give his muscles a little extra pump, watching Sam watching him.

“So are you a partier, Colt?” Dean asked, licking his lips as he continued to stare unabashedly at the man.

“I don’t know that I’d call myself a party animal. I mean I work a lot and can’t afford to go in to the office with hangovers all the time, but sometimes... yeah.” He didn’t even need to ask whether Dean partied. It was there in his demeanor, and in the number of guests he entertained. And that was just what Sam caught when he was around. Probably the tip of the iceberg. 

“I guess I better,” Sam nodded toward the machine across from Dean’s and started to walk backwards towards it. The way Dean stared at him made Sam’s stomach flutter. He didn’t get it. Sure, Dean was drop dead gorgeous, but Sam met good looking guys all the time. None of them, at least in the last decade, made him feel like a tongue-tied teenager. It was a good thing that as a lawyer he was trained to “fake it,” or he’d look like an idiot every time they spoke. 

“Definitely. Don’t let me distract you from your exercises. I’ll just be quiet and watch from here,” Dean said, a smile teasing at his lips.

“Like that won’t be distracting,” Sam chuckled and sat down. Setting the weights quite high, he grabbed the handles and started pressing slow reps, sharply aware that Dean hadn’t looked away. Maybe when they were done with their work out, he would ask if the guy wanted to go grab a bite. Everything about the guy screamed _player_ , but it wasn’t like Sam was looking for anything permanent. Yeah... already he was finding ways to tamp down on the cautious part of him warning against involvement with Dean.

Dean kept up his workout while watching the very buff Sam Colt lift more weight than he probably normally did. He glanced toward the door when he saw a big blond brawny guy stroll in with ‘Jake’ printed on his gym t-shirt, underneath ‘TRAINER.’ With an internal sigh he turned his focus to Jake and gave the guy a big smile. “Hey, Jake, I’m here for my _appointment._ Just tell me what you want me to do,” he said, giving the guy a wink as he continued to work on the weight machine.

It was as if a light switch had gone off. Suddenly, Dean was no longer paying him any attention at all but was pouring on the charm for Jake. Yeah, Sam felt a little jealous, which was ridiculous. 

Though Sam tried hard to focus only on his exercise, he kept looking back at the pair. The way they interacted was a little odd. Not the flirting. It wasn’t that. But it was almost like Dean was accommodating Jake, and not the other way around, when it was Jake who was being paid to provide training. Maybe it was his imagination. 

When the pair moved to the floor exercise area, Sam stopped weightlifting and watched as Dean did pushups. Hell, by the look of things, he wasn’t the only one looking, and it was no wonder. There were mirrors around the place and everywhere he turned... Dean in the mirror, his tight, sweet ass, moving up and down. Sam told himself if he didn’t quit looking, he was gonna be stuck here for a while, unless he wanted the entire gym to see how hard he could get under his shorts.

Just as Sam convinced himself to look away, he saw Dean stand up. Jake put an arm behind Dean’s back and started walking him away. Right before the two men passed through the door leading to the steam room, Sam saw Jake’s hand slip down and squeeze Dean’s ass. His mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as he stared at the door long after it shut behind the men. 

_Don’t be an idiot. Happens every day,_ he told himself, stepping up his exercise routine and just wanting to get through it.

* * *   
[A couple days later]

Dean was standing at his door with his police uniform on, his hair tousled, his handcuff case empty, and an empty gun holster. He waved at Carlos, a big man in a red muscle shirt with tats like sleeves on both arms. The guy gave him a salute, and headed down the hall just as Sam Colt’s door opened.

Dean gave his neighbor a smile. “Your coffee smells good,” he said softly, then gave Carlos one more smile and wave before Carlos got on the elevator. As soon as the guy was gone, all of Dean’s attention focused on Sam, his gaze sliding down and up that delicious body hidden under a tailored suit. “I’m outta coffee. I didn’t make it to the grocery yesterday and I thought I had another bag in there. Don’t suppose I could bum a cup from you?” he asked, giving Sam his most charming of smiles.

“Ah...” Sam tugged on his tie and did a double take, then took a step back. “You’re _not_ a doctor,” he said, stating the obvious, then blinking. He could have sworn he’d seen Dean with a stethoscope or a lab coat or something that had given him that impression. So much for making assumptions. “I wouldn’t have guessed _cop_ in a hundred years.”

Dean just smiled. “Will I make you late? I can brew my own, if you’d loan me some java beans. I’m kinda beat, but I promise, I’ll replace all the beans you want tonight. In fact, I’m free until about midnight.”

“Coffee... right. Yeah, come on in,” Sam said pushing the door open and dropping his briefcase next to the door. “I just shut off the pot, but it’s fresh.” As Dean passed him, Sam looked him up and down, his heart clenching. The guy was way too handsome as it was, and now it turned out he was a cop... in uniform. 

Licking his lips, Sam lead the way to the open kitchen. His counters were polished black granite, and his appliances were brushed silver. Like the rest of his apartment, it was very modern.

He reached into a cabinet and got a mug, then poured a cup of coffee for Dean. “I’ll warm it up. And you wanted some coffee beans for later?” he asked, searching Dean’s face. 

Dean half-pausing a moment to study the artwork before continuing to the kitchen. “Thanks, Sam. Some beans would be awesome, too. So you like William Banner’s work? I see you have two of his pieces. I think Jocelyn Rider has a better palette of colors. They blend a little better, and besides, Banner’s an ass.” He leaned on a granite counter and studied Sam like Sam was going to be breakfast.

Every time Sam thought he had Dean pegged, the guy popped off with something that surprised him. “The first one was a gift. I bought the second piece to keep the theme,” Sam said. “I’ve only met him once, very briefly. Can’t say I formed any opinions, but you’re right about Rider.” The microwave dinged, and Sam brought the mug out and set it on the counter. “Help yourself to cream and sugar.”

“Oh, I like plenty of cream and sugar,” Dean said, smiling suggestively at Sam, “but I take my coffee black.”

As he moved around to get a cup of coffee beans for Dean, Sam glanced at him. “You sure coffee’s a good idea though? I mean, I assume you’re going to try to sleep if you’re on duty at midnight.”

“I just finished work. I’m going to stay up, get caught up on my shows, and pay some bills. Then I gotta make my list and hit the grocery. I won’t crash until noon, probably. When will you be home tonight? So I, you know, know when to bring over some fresh coffee beans for you.” He looked at Sam from under his lashes as he leaned back a little more on the counter and sipped the hot coffee.

“You don’t have to... I’ve got plenty of coffee, but if you want to come over, you know, just to hang, I should be home by eight. You like Chinese food?” He asked, giving Dean a dimpled smile. “I know a great place on my way home. I can pick some up.” His pulse was racing at the thought of a date with Dean, though the cautious side of him was right up in his business, reminding him that the guy would probably go through seven dates a week.

“Yeah, Chinese is great. Sure. I like the hot and spicy stuff, and favor beef, but I’ll do anything. Doubt you’ll find a dish I don’t like. I’ll get bring drinks.” He dug in his shirt pocket and pulled out a card. It had his name and a long rifle on it as well as his cellphone number. “Call me if anything comes up. Or call me just to call me.” He winked at Sam.

Sam glanced at the card, and laughed as he reached for it. “You’re kind of quirky in all the right ways.” When his fingers brushed Dean’s, Sam felt a definite tightening of his gut. “Thanks,” he said softly. Pulling out his wallet, he put Dean’s card away and then offered him his own card, which reflected he was a partner at Smith & Wesson, a national law firm. “That’s my direct line, you can call me anytime.”

Dean tucked the card into his shirt pocket. “I’ll keep it safely close at hand,” he said, looking up into Sam’s eyes. “Thanks for the coffee.”

It was blatant. The way Dean was totally in Sam’s space, so close Sam could feel his body heat. If he moved his head just a little, a few inches, their mouths would touch. Just the thought had Sam’s lips burning. He just knew that one kiss would lead to another, and they’d be on the couch in no time flat. Just as he was asking himself if that would be so bad, his phone gave a beep.

Without moving away, he reached into his pocket and checked his message. “Shoot... I gotta get going. I’ll, ah... see you tonight?” he asked, a smile curving his lips. 

“Absolutely. Make the right offer and you can see as much of me as you’d like,” Dean said, licking his lips before stepping back, grabbing the coffee beans and mug and heading toward the door. “See you tonight,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder as he stepped out into the hallway. “Don’t forget your briefcase, Handsome.”

For a long moment Sam stood rooted in his living room, staring at the door like an idiot. It took another beep of his phone to get him moving. By the time he was in the hallway, Dean was already gone. 

As Sam headed to the elevator, there was a definite spring to his step. He was looking forward to their date, even if he sometimes felt a little tongue-tied when Dean made an outrageous comment. ‘Handsome’... he’d just been called handsome by some guy who’d have no problem landing a job as a calendar model. 

Walking into the elevator, Sam tried to get a hold of himself. It wouldn’t do to get to the mediation acting giddy over a date. 

* * * 

“Way to go, Colt. I heard you closed the deal,” Martin said, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched Sam pour a cup for himself. “One more case off your plate.”

Sam gave a nod. “We paid big bucks, but it could have been a helluva lot worse, and the client knows it. I mean we pitched our theory of non-liability but... the mediator saw through it. It’s creative but there’s no real legal support for it. I guess the argument was just scary enough to make the other side back down a little and bring their demands down to workable figures.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We got them off their five million dollar demand. The mediator told them we were planning to walk if they didn’t get to some serious number crunching soon. Ever use Bensen? I’d use him again as a mediator. Efficient and not afraid to do some arm-twisting.” Sam looked out the window at the tall buildings and the slightly pink sky. “Beautiful day.”

“Yeah. Did we get the declarations. Sam?” 

Looking out the window of the firm’s lunch room, Sam’s mind wandered. He wanted dinner to be just right, and was already imagining Dean at his place. The guy affected him like no guy had in a long while.

“Sam?”

Feeling a hard punch in the arm, Sam turned around and gave his colleague a ‘what the fuck’ look. 

“When you get back to earth, you might want to check on the status of the declaration. Our motion is due Friday and you know the client is wishy-washy about getting things done on time.”

“I got them. They’re signed,” Sam answered. “Relax, we’ll get everything filed on time.” As he walked out of the room, he heard a loud, “did _you_ just say ‘relax’?” Laughing under his breath, Sam headed past the library toward his office. He just had to send out an e-mail, grab his stuff, and he was outta here.

* * *

Since the mediation had finished early, Sam was able to get home a little early. Though the place was spotless, he did a little cleaning up, then took a shower. No, he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, he told himself as he dried off and got into a pair of jeans and a casual vee neck tee shirt with a very light, barely there, artsy print on it. And no, he hadn’t selected it because Dean seemed to appreciate art.

He kept his dining table small, though he could add four leaves to it if he was entertaining. Right now, set for two people, it looked nice and intimate. Perfect, he thought. Next to the forks, he placed some black lacquered chopsticks. He’d bought some Tsing Tao beer home and made sure to put it in the top shelf of the fridge to get them cold fast.

Hearing Dean’s door open, he held his breath and slowly made his way to his own door. There was such a thing as being too anxious, he told himself.

Dean knocked rather than ringing the doorbell. He’d decided on tight black jeans and a loose red t-shirt that had a Japanese Manga character on it and a tentacle coming down from the shoulder toward the character. He had couple bottles of plum wine, some jasmine loose leaf tea, a couple chocolate lava cakes that he knew were something of the rage in Japan, an art magazine focused on Rider, and a bag of fresh coffee beans from the local gourmet shop. His hand had barely moved away from the door before Sam was opening it. Obviously the guy had been listening for him. “Are you ready for me?”

“Hey. I’m always ready for you, Officer Dean... outta-uniform-Officer-Dean,” Sam amended, grinning and looking Dean over, though he tried not to be too obvious about how much he liked what he saw. “C’mon in,” he said, raising his brow at the fancy bag Dean was holding. He could see the necks of the wine bottles, but that was about it.

Dean held out the bag as he stepped inside, taking in the ambience. Lights were low, but not so low as to need to light candles. There was some soft music that reminded Dean of massage tunes, all wind-chime-y and water gurgling. The dining room table was set for two. 

“You like a man in uniform, do you?” Dean asked, stopping in the living room and settling onto the couch. “I can change if you want.” He made sure to leave enough room on the couch for Sam if he wanted to join him.

“Who doesn’t?” Knowing Dean was joking, Sam gave a low laugh. “Thanks for..., you really shouldn’t have,” he said raising the bag a little, and taking it to the kitchen. “Fancy. And very in theme,” he said with approval. “Would you like some beer, or the wine you brought?” When Sam looked over at Dean splayed casually on his couch, his heart jumped. 

“I’m up for whatever you’re up for,” Dean said, sounding completely sincere, with just a hint of flirtation in his tone. “Get us some drinks then come join me and tell me something interesting about yourself.” As always, his undivided attention was on Sam, watching his every move, his slightest flush, practically sensing how fast Sam’s heart was pounding.

Sam did a double take. No, he hadn’t been imagining the innuendo. Damn, the guy was good. “Let’s see... I’m the paper pusher,” he answered, going into the fridge and grabbing two beers. He opened them and headed to the living room. “And you’re the one with the guns and handcuffs. I think that means you’ve got the corner on ‘interesting.’” 

He hesitated for a split second, then sat down next to Dean. Passing a bottle to the guy, he smiled and touched his bottle to Dean’s. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Dean said, smiling back and taking a long draught of the beer. “It’s my experience that everyone has some interesting tales. Do you come from a home with fifteen siblings? Who gave you the picture? Why modern for your apartment decor? Why a lawyer? What type of lawyer are you? Where’s your dream vacation? Who’s been your hottest lay? Did you lose your virginity to the love of your life, a one night stand, or did a highly paid prostitute deflower you? Or ...maybe you like to eat cookies-and-cream ice cream in bed. So tell me, Sam.”

Choking on his beer, Sam tried to keep it from spewing out of his mouth. “You did _not_ just say _deflowered_.” Eyes wide and shoulders shaking as he laughed, he stared at Dean. “If I had to describe you in one word, it would have to be ‘outrageous’ or ‘original.’ Jury’s still out on which fits better. Deflowered...” he muttered, shaking his head. 

Course he’d heard the rest of Dean’s questions just fine. Several of them were quite suggestive, and one of them would depend on whether he slept with Dean. He’d definitely fill the slot of ‘hottest lay.’

“Original. I vote for original. Unique, too. Very uniquely skilled,” Dean said grinning and taking another swig of the beer. Sam had dimples when he laughed. Or when he smiled that great big smile. Dimples most definitely earned the guy points.

 _Uniquely skilled._ There the guy went making Sam feel tongue-tied again, and it was definitely not a familiar feeling. He could usually hold his own when it came to flirting. It was just this particular guy that affected him like this. Lifting the bottle to his lips, Sam bought himself a few seconds. 

“Ever hear about ‘stair racing’?’” Sam asked. “Every year, the US Bank Tower opens up their stairwell for a race to the top. That’s 75 stories... 1500 steps. _Elite climbers_ ,” he raised his bottle up to indicate he was one of them, “get to start first, so we’re not stuck behind a pack. That’s the semi-interesting part,” he told Dean. “The interesting part is that once you’re at the top, and if you’re in the elite group, there are hardly any other people around. So... pairing up in the elevators is a _thing_.” His lips quirked and he felt the heat creeping up his cheeks. “I guess I have a thing for elevators.” 

“No, I’ve never heard of stair races. You’re an Olympian of the modern world, because 1500 stairs? Holy crap, Dude.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling as he licked his lips before bringing the bottle to them and sucking the tip in just a moment before taking a drink. Not only dimples, but blushing. Another star on the adorable scale, definitely. “Elevators are awesome. That risk of getting caught doing the naughty? Oh, yeah. I like elevators just fine. And see, that was definitely interesting. Tell me more.”

“Uh uh,” Sam lifted a finger off his bottle and half pointed it at Dean . “I think it’s your turn. While I scramble to think of something else,” he admitted. He really did have a thing for elevator sex, and now, talking about it with Dean, it was definitely making his temperature rise. 

“My turn...I’m from Kansas, came out here to become the next big thing in the art world. I sold some crap when I was twelve. They didn’t know I was twelve,” Dean said, chuckling. “I sold more stuff until I was fifteen, when they found out D. Win was this underage kid from the farmlands with no formal training, school gave me a scholarship. I’m good at art...I suck at everything else and lost the scholarship my third year. D. Win was never able to make a comeback, but after getting myself neck deep in trouble, I found my way to my current happy high-rise. Love my job, the money’s decent, and I’ve got this really hot neighbor...” Dean paused and looked at Sam then winced when his own stomach growled. “You’re up for the interesting topic and my stomach says it’s up for dinner.”

“Wow...” Now Sam would definitely have to look up ‘D. Win.’ Getting up, he grinned and cocked his head. “About the hot neighbor. I know exactly who you’re talking about. The guy in 2832, right?” Course an eccentric old geezer lived in that unit, but Sam was sure Dean wouldn’t know that, seeing as he was new to the building. 

Dean began laughing. “I so didn’t peg you as a cougar-hunter. Though Mr. Johnson probably was decent looking forty years ago. You need help with...anything?” he asked as Sam walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah... getting through the evening without spewing or dropping something.” Laughing with Dean, Sam shook his head. “Cougar-hunter... where do you come up with these things? You sure you’re not an actor or a comedian? Artist seems a little too introverted,” Sam said, moving back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room until he had everything on the table, including wine glasses and the wine Dean had brought. 

“A lot of artists aren’t introverted. Believe me, to get noticed you can’t be introverted. And c’mon, I was a twelve year old, packaging up paintings to send to galleries in the big cities, lying through my teeth in the letters saying so-and-so had asked that I send these paintings ‘to your gallery for display and that none were to be listed for less than a thousand dollars.’ That is anything but introverted. And you should’a seen me trying to explain to my dad why I’m getting these big checks from strangers in New York and L.A.” 

Dean waited to sit down until Sam seemed to have gotten everything out on the table. He reached out and lightly touched Sam’s arm. “Stop buttling about and sit down. If we need anything else, we can get it then.”

Sam’s gaze dropped down to Dean’s hand. It was warm on his skin and his palm was a little calloused. He really shouldn’t be wondering how it would feel sliding over his skin. Swallowing hard, he gave a nod, and sat down before he lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s. “Go ahead, help yourself. Before you have me thinking you’re a musician too,” he joked, hearing Dean’s stomach complain loudly.

Dean had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t eat this morning before I crashed. Sorry for the orchestra,” he said as he looked over all the plates of food. He put a sampling of everything on his dish, though he tended to go meat heavy, avoiding the veggies unless they were onions or water chestnuts. “Broccoli is an evil vegetable. Really. Anything that has things called ‘florets’ is just so egotistical, don’t you think? Eat me, I’m a floret. You’re either a flower and belong in a vase, or you’re a vegetable that dads try their best to get you to eat and which you feed to the dog anyhow. Course even dogs know better than to eat florets.” 

He glanced up, hearing Sam chuckling at his mini-tirade. “Can you tell I don’t like broccoli? Onions, now, those are king, a simple and fine vegetable. A couple slices and they all fall apart with like no work. They’re good in everything and are even good breaded and deep-fried, and really good on burgers. Broccoli can’t say that. No way.” Dean put a couple extra onions on his plate. He watched as Sam started filling his own plate. 

Sam’s brain was still stuck on Dean’s _eat me_. He blinked and stared at Dean for a moment, trying to catch up. “Dig right in. And if you don’t mind... I’ll do the florets,” he said, making a point of selecting them for himself. 

By the time Sam grabbed his chopsticks, Dean had already had several bites. “I guess you like it,” he said, grinning. “The restaurant also deliver.” 

“I’m not a picky eater, just not a salad or broccoli type of guy. But yeah, this is some good Chinese. My experience with delivery Chinese has been kind of dubious, but I’d make an exception for this place,” Dean said, digging out some beef covered in sesame seeds. “So tell me more interesting things about you. Where are you from? What did you want to be when you grew up? What’s your favorite place to get naked--that isn’t an elevator or the bedroom?” Dean easily scooped up more of the tasty meal into his mouth and watched Sam expectantly. 

“You,” Sam said pointing with his chopsticks, “ask the strangest questions.” Popping a sweet and sour shrimp in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, then licked the sauce off his lips. “I grew up in Texas, mostly. Moved here when I was sixteen, after I... I lost my parents. My aunt is a professor at Stanford and she took me in. Pretty much told me I had to become a plastic surgeon to keep her looking young. So I became a lawyer.” He laughed. “Course now, when I’m burning the midnight oil, she likes to remind me that if I’d done as she’d said, I could stroll into the office at ten and knock it off for the day whenever.”

He ate a couple more bites, watching Dean from under his lashes. Just like everything else that the guy did, he ate sexy. Sam’s mind froze as he focused on Dean’s tongue darting out to lick the sauce off his lower lip. 

“My mom died in a house fire when I was four,” Dean said. “Dad always said I got my looks from her. I think I look like him, but I do have Mom’s eyes. My dad died a few years back.” He took another bite. “If you hadn’t jumped into the law books, what else do you think you would have liked to do? Actor? Athlete? Baker? Candlestick maker?”

“Honestly? Probably cop, like you. I’d have gone after my parents’ killer.” Sam took a drink and thought he’d better steer the conversation to something lighter. “So... what time do you get off. Your shift I mean,” Sam quickly added, kicking himself. 

Dean gave a soft laugh, resisting the urge to comment that he got off all the time. “I’m not a cop,” he finally admitted, seemingly almost a little embarrassed. “Like you said, everyone likes a guy in uniform and that was just a little role-play with my date. You seemed to really like that uniform and I just couldn’t come clean. I liked the way you were looking at me in the uniform.” He stared down at his plate a moment then looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I’d be happy to get into it, you know, if you’d like to see me in it.” 

“Oh.” Sam didn’t really know what to say, so he shoveled more food into his mouth. He pulled his gaze away, afraid Dean would see the heat in his eyes again. Heat and a little confusion as he started to put a few things together. “So... the stethoscope... I didn’t imagine it,” he finally said, meeting Dean’s eyes. 

Dean felt his cheeks color and could hardly believe he was _blushing._ A strange feeling welled up inside him and he glanced back down at his plate, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. It took him a moment to put a name to the feeling inside him. ...Shy. He fucking felt _shy_ around this guy. How the hell had that happened? Shy was practically a foreign concept to him. “Ah, no, probably not.”

Grabbing the glass of wine, Dean drank it down like it was water and felt even more embarrassed. “Shit...the things you do to me, Sammy,” he said, watching Sam through his eyelashes as he tried to get his off-the-rails emotions back under control. 

All the warning bells were going off full blast in Sam’s head. If only his body and his heart would listen to his brain because he was sure his brain had the right of it in this. And yet... he couldn’t help enjoying the warmth curling in the pit of his stomach. And he couldn’t ignore his racing pulse. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Not that I believe any of it,” he added. “So... you gonna keep me guessing? FBI? Nah... model. Bet you’re an ex Abercrombie and Fitch model and... I’m gonna have to keep my eye on GQ Mag.” He gave Dean a heated look.

“You should. I’m not easy to fluster,” Dean said, finally feeling like he wasn’t going to burst into flames just from embarrassment. “I’m still an artist,” he said with a shrug. “Or at least I’d like to think I am. And I’ll be free about 5 or 6 a.m., Mr. Lawyer man. Why do you want to know?”

“I guess that’s better than ‘shark.’” Boy, this guy could really be direct. “I dunno. I was thinking, maybe I could take you to breakfast.” His lips quirked into a smile. “I know, it’s crazy. Dinner, then you going off to do … whatever it is you’re doing... and then breakfast.” 

“I’m going to think you’re sweet on me, if you’re not careful. Yeah, I’d love to do breakfast,” he said then made a face and lifted up a broccoli floret with his chopsticks. “How did that get that on my plate?” he asked, then held it up in offering to Sam, dropping it into his mouth with precision. 

“Mmm, it’s good. And healthy,” Sam added. He snagged a shrimp with his chopsticks and brought it to Dean’s mouth. “And what if I am getting sweet on you?” he asked, his gaze locking with Dean’s, his stomach fluttering.

“I don’t know. We might have to test the waters a bit,” Dean said, then opened his mouth wide for the shrimp. He nodded approvingly as he closed his eyes and chewed. “Mmm.” He looked on his plate for more ‘healthy’ food and settled on some mini-corn. “So how do you think we should test the waters?”

“I’ve got... a few ideas...” Sam whispered huskily, leaning toward Dean and cupping the back of his head. Sensing no resistance, he slanted his mouth across Dean’s and kissed him, sliding his tongue across the seam of Dean’s lips before pushing it inside. He stroked Dean’s palate and briefly tangled their tongues together before pulling away, feeling a little dazed.

“Sweet. Definitely... sweet,” Sam said, his gaze dropping to Dean’s luscious lips.

“Nah, probably just the sweet and sour sauce,” Dean said licking his lips. He studied the way Sam looked, the way his breathing was a little rapid, the light sheen of glassiness in his eyes. He smiled a little and leaned across and brushed his lips over Sam’s, licking his way into Sam’s mouth, tangling his tongue with Sam’s for a moment before sitting back in his chair. “You, you taste of vanilla and cinnamon, bright mornings, and adorable dimples.”

“Next you’ll say ‘sugar and spice, and everything nice.’” Sam couldn’t help smiling, though he was a little embarrassed about showing the dimples right after Dean brought them up. The guy was a charmer. Definitely a charmer, and it was working. “Maybe we can continue this conversation after dinner,” he tossed a glance toward the couch, then went back to eating, never taking his eyes off Dean’s.

“Maybe we can,” Dean said with a nod, watching Sam with the same intensity Sam leveled on him. Bringing a piece of chicken to his lips, he licked off some of the sauce then sucked on it a few times before sucking it into his mouth. “Who’s up on the interesting tales. I lost track,” he said after chewing and swallowing.

“Hmm?” Mesmerized and watching Dean’s every movement, even swallowing when Dean’s throat convulsed, Sam barely understood what he was being asked. “Sorry?” Blinking, he gave a wry smile. “Mind wandered...”

Dean began eating normally, delighted he was able to entrance Sam with his minor show. “Careful. I let my mind wander once and it didn’t come back for a week.”

Sam chuckled, knowing he’d been busted. “Mine’s been known to go out to lunch now and again, especially around that hot neighbor of mine.” He helped himself to more rice, then sat back. “I’d love to see your art sometime.” His gaze slid down over Dean. Oh yeah, he’d love to see more of what was under his tight clothes, too.

“Sure,” Dean said. “If I asked you to model for me, would you?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as that smile of his danced around his lips.

“Me?” Sam asked in surprise. “You’re teasing,” he added, laughing. 

“No, not teasing,” Dean said. “You’re gorgeous, just in case you missed it. Downright edible.” Dean lifted his wine glass. “To Sammy agreeing to model for me. Sans shirt and anything else you want to be without, and with those dimples showing.” His eyes glazed over a moment and he pictured Sam modeling for him. He suspected he wouldn’t get the painting finished before he had to tackle the guy.

Lifting his glass, but still laughing at the notion, Sam took a drink. “You’re like a perfect date. I know... I shouldn’t jinx it,” he added, but he meant it. Every moment in Dean’s company felt exciting. There were no awkward moments, and they enjoyed a lot of the same things. Yeah, it was only a first date, but he’d had quite a few that he’d needed to escape from before getting even an hour into it.

“Hardly perfect,” Dean said, laughing with Sam and then drinking his own wine. “I honestly don’t usually talk this much with a date,” Dean said, laughing again, mostly to himself, before shaking his head. “But I’m definitely enjoying myself. Course if you keep bringing up that hot cougar neighbor of yours, him and I might just have to have a go round. I’ll punch him in his dentures or something.”

Sam shook his head. “I may have to bring him up more often. Just imagining you in a boxing ring...” Licking his lips, he took one more bite of his food, then wiped his mouth. “And believe me, I don’t usually go around imagining things...”

“Me naked,” Dean challenged, then broke into laughter at the look on Sam’s face. “Liar,” he said and poured them both some more wine.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner had taken far longer than either one of them realized. They were so busy talking and laughing that it was nearly ten before they even heated up the lava cakes for dessert. The sounds Dean made as he enjoyed the molten chocolate had Sam thinking of sex. He’d bet his bottom dollar that Mr. Playboy-from-across-the-hall knew exactly what he was doing. After Dean licked his fork completely clean, Sam suggested they move to the sofa.

When Sam sat down next to him, Dean leaned in and gave him a light kiss as he slid his hand under Sam’s t-shirt. The man was damned muscular. “Mmm, nice,” he said, but the other words that should follow, words that usually came so easily, eluded him at the moment. Words like, he was open to offers and was prepared to give Sam a generous discount because, honestly, he wanted to get Sam into bed but...his thoughts fizzled out as Sam’s tongue slid into his mouth.

Ever since the moment Dean had touched his arm at the beginning of the night, Sam had wanted to feel Dean’s palm sliding over his skin. And now, Dean was leaving trails of heat everywhere he touched him, and Sam didn’t think he’d been this affected by any guy. Ever.

Closing his arms around Dean, he drew him closer, tangling their tongues together. He ran his hand up and down Dean’s back, eventually cupping the back of his head and taking control of the kiss. The guy was so damn sexy... so hot, so much hotter than Sam had even imagined.

Crap, this guy could kiss, was Dean’s thought as he found himself wrapping his own arms around Sam. Sam obviously liked control and if he were paying, he’d get it, but at the moment, Dean wanted Sam...no, no, no, that wasn’t how the game worked. Dean forced himself to relax, to let Sam keep control. Didn’t want to scare him off, after all. They needed to talk money, they really did but...and there went all his thoughts again … pooling in his skull and melting out his ears. Sam was so much hotter than he’d ever imagined.

Breaking the kiss, Sam let out a hot breath. “Got gorgeous eyes,” he whispered, “make that gorgeous everything.” Sliding his mouth across Dean’s jaw, he nibbled his way to his ear and sucked his earlobe. Nuzzling him for a few moments, his kissed his way down Dean’s throat, moving his hand down his chest, to his hips, then dipping his hand under Dean’s shirt and sweeping it up his side, taking the shirt with him. “Mmm,” he moaned softly against Dean’s skin.

“Yeah,” Dean said, and was about to start telling Sam it wasn’t for free, when Sam started nuzzling and kissing him, and then Sam’s scorching touch was sliding along his side. The vibration of Sam’s ‘mmm’ shot straight through him. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled away, recapturing Sam’s lips with his own, taking control of the kiss, his fingers sliding into Sam’s silky brown locks. When he finally had to come up for air, ‘fuckkkk’ just simply slipped from his lips. Yeah, he wanted Sam to definitely become a customer. “We need to talk pri--” Dean started when his phone went off.

Giving Sam an apologetic look he pulled out the phone and frowned at the number. “Ellen?” he asked as he answered the phone. Wincing, he pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Of course I didn’t! You’re sure she’s on the train?” He shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll go meet it and her. I’ll get her back to you.” He put the phone away and reluctantly stood up.

“I’m sorry, a friend’s daughter decided she’d had enough of her mom and got some hair-brained idea that she could just come on out here and stay with me. She’s a good kid, don’t get me wrong, just impetuous. I gotta go. Breakfast? Can we do breakfast?” he asked Sam, kicking himself. He should have let Sam do the asking, but it was too late now.

Sam’s chest was heaving slightly. He gave a nod. “Yeah... thought we already had a breakfast date. Ah...” Getting a grip on himself, Sam got up. “Go rescue your friend. Just... be careful around Union Station. Not the best area to be around this time of night.”

“We did, didn’t we? I guess I just wanted to make sure me running off...uh, yeah. Ah,don’t worry. I can defend myself. No one’ll mess with me. Now if I can just get Jo-- that’s the friend’s daughter. JoAnna Beth Harvelle. Anyhow...breakfast.” He leaned in, grabbed Sam’s t-shirt in his hand and tugged Sam into a kiss. “Mmmm. I’m gonna kill Jo.”

Dean headed toward the door, pausing to look over his shoulder once at Sam, then turned the knob and headed briefly into his own apartment before going to the elevator, cursing under his breath the whole way.

“Yeah. Me too,” Sam agreed under his breath, staring at the door long after Dean had walked out of it.

* * *

From 5:30 a.m. until about 7:00, Sam alternatively paced the length of his living room and sat down, trying to wait patiently for Dean. But he wasn’t. Patient.

Just the thought of seeing Dean again set his heart on fire. Last night... if Dean hadn’t received that phone call, Sam was certain they’d have gotten in the sack. He could still taste Dean on his lips. Could still feel the imprints of his hand on his body, and they’d only just gotten started.

Sam wanted more. He definitely wanted to see more of Dean, both in clothes and out of them. But when 8:00 a.m. rolled around, he gave up. He grabbed his briefcase and left, stopping for a moment to listen at Dean’s door, but heard no sounds coming from inside. With a frustrated sigh, he headed for the elevator.

* * *

Dean wanted to throttle the girl. She was twenty, but acting like she was fourteen. It didn’t help that she had a crush on him. He’d picked her up at the train station, but she’d begged him to let her stay a couple days, to see LA. After calling Ellen to let her know Jo had arrived safely, he told her, wincing as he did so, that he was going to let Jo stay a few days. He would put her on a couple group tours and he’d show her around some colleges. Ellen was practically spitting fire, but after a long conversation with her daughter, she finally caved, provided Jo stayed with Dean so Dean could keep an eye on her.

Dean had to cancel his appointments for the next three nights, explaining a family emergency had come up and he’d be back in touch with his clients as soon as possible. He put Jo up in his own bedroom, which gave nothing away about the services he provided.

The spare room, or his “work bedroom,” came with all the accoutrements of a high priced ‘escort.’ Even though she knew he used the room as an art studio, and he’d told her to stay out of it, he couldn’t trust that she would. So he locked it up and decided to sleep on the couch.

It was late, real late when he finally got to bed. He woke up at 9 A.M.

“Crap!” He’d missed breakfast with Sam. He wondered if Sam had knocked and he just hadn’t heard, which would surprise him, but was possible. Confirming the trouble-maker was still asleep, he pulled out Sam’s card and called his direct line.

“Sam? It’s Dean. I’m so sorry about breakfast. I fell asleep on the couch. Lunch maybe?” he suggested.

“No problem,” Sam said, a smile curving his lips at the sound of Dean’s voice. “I understand. About lunch, though,” he made a face, “I’ve been dragged into a project. I could maybe do thirty minutes, but if that’s not what you had in mind, I’ll take a rain check.”

“No problem. I’ll bring something unless, you know, you don’t want your co-workers to see me. I could be there, say, at one?”

“Sounds great. I’m on the fifty-fourth floor. Just don’t... dress as anything that identifies your profession. I may have told someone about the doctor-cop next door, and wouldn’t want to confuse them if you come in wearing firemen’s gear,” he chuckled.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be certain not to dress in a way that identifies my profession. Promise. I’ll just wear a casual suit, no tie. You good with Italian? Or does Mexican sound better? So you know, Pizza Hut or Taco Bell?” he teased.

Sam laughed. “You know, it won’t take much to talk me into an hour. Either’s fine, really. I’ll see you at one.” He hung up and saw the look on his secretary’s face as she brought a stack of papers to him. “Shut up, Alice.”

“Uhh hmmm,” she said, laughing at him before sweeping out of the room. Right, now they’d have an audience, of that Sam was sure.

* * *

Dean had gotten Jo set up on a tour that would take most of the day, called her a cab, and gave her money for incidentals and the return cab ride. He told he expected her back at six, and then he’d take her out to a few places and they’d get dinner and see some of the night life. That would give him a chance to catch a few hours of sleep between lunch and when she returned. He knew she probably wouldn’t make it back before seven, but he wanted her worried so she didn’t try to skip out and do her own thing.

Once he got her on her way, he called Ellen and gave her an update, then he got ready for his lunch date. He knew he was treading in dangerous territory. A second date, and one that he was paying for, and Sam still didn’t know his real profession, or that anything more than some intense kissing would cost him. He didn’t give it away, after all. He refused to acknowledge that little voice that said he might be willing to for Sam. No, that was most certainly dangerous thinking. He’d talk to Sam about his prices over lunch. Yeah. Definitely.

He picked up some lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and some soda, figuring that was a pretty safe bet, and headed over to Sam’s office. When he reached the firm’s reception area, the receptionist called to let Sam know he was here.

As Sam headed for reception, he got no fewer than two thumbs up. A lot of people were looking at him, grinning, and when he almost ran into another attorney, she told him, “If it doesn’t work out, give him my card.”

Snorting and shaking his head, Sam made it to reception, where his usually very hard to impress secretary was gesturing wildly as she spoke with Dean, like she’d known the guy for years.

“Hey.” He glanced at Alice, who seemed very happy to stand right there. “Guess he’s got your approval?” Sam said pointedly since Dean could not have missed the fact that she was checking him out.

“Well he is a lot better than your last three Christmas party dates, I’ll tell you that. Very nice to meet you, Dean.” She shook his hand, then walked away.

“You can see who’s the boss around here,” Sam said ruefully. “Food smells great. You want to go to the patio on the fortieth floor, or all the way down? There’s a park next door, with tables. I’d offer up one of our lunch rooms but.... yeah, you’d think they’d never seen me date anyone,” he laughed.

“Hey, whatever you’re most comfortable with. I’m not the one on the time schedule. I don’t mind meeting your co-workers, or chilling in the park. And Alice seems to be a very competent and charismatic lady. When she chooses to be. So should I ask about your last three Christmas party dates?”

“No,” Sam said quickly, giving him a look. “They were fine, she exaggerates.” He punched the elevator call button, then caught himself studying Dean. Not a good idea right here, he told himself. “So did you manage to get the kid to go home? How old is she?” he asked, “Thirteen? Fourteen?”

Dean looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “She acts it. She’s twenty, but I swear she doesn’t have a lick of common sense. No, she’s staying for a few days. You know, spent all her money to get here. So I’ve got her on one of the tours right now, going to take her out tonight for dinner, then tomorrow, I’m taking her around to some colleges. If she’s coming all this way, she’s gonna look at some schools, dammit. She doesn’t think she needs a degree, thinks she can just make it on her wit and good looks. And she has a crush on me. I think she was hoping maybe I’d want to make a go of it.” Dean shrugged and sighed. “Her mom owns a bar and deals in some antiques on the side. She’d let Jo get involved with either of the two businesses but Jo’s acting like a bratty kid.” Dean made a face. “Sorry. The last thing you want to hear about is my problems with a friend’s kid.”

Sam laughed. “No, it’s fine. But she sounds a lot like you. Brave, tossing caution to the winds, taking a chance. Isn’t that what young Dean was about?” he asked. “Maybe you’re not giving her enough credit. Twenty... at twenty, she just might not want everyone else planning her life for her. Just saying...” he let that hang out there, since he really didn’t know Jo.

“When she starts acting like an adult, I’ll treat her like one,” Dean said, “but yeah, I hear you.”

Once they got in the elevator, Sam used his passcard and hit the button. “Patio’s got a great view, I think you’ll like it.” Catching Dean’s heated look and reading it loud and clear, Sam merely smiled and looked down.

The doors opened, and they headed down a corridor that lead to the large semi-glass-enclosed patio, and found a table with an umbrella.

Dean stepped up to look briefly over the surrounding cityscape, then turned back to look at Sam. “Yeah, I do like the view,” he said, but it was apparent he was talking about Sam rather than the skyline behind him. He set the bags on the table and started pulling out their contents. “This is a little mom and pop shop from little Italy. It’s back, out of the way and if you don’t know it’s there, you’ll walk right by it, if you couldn’t smell it I mean. I haven’t had a bad meal there, let me tell you.”

“I already know it’s delicious,” Sam answered, and it was equally clear he wasn’t talking about the food. He helped unpack the food and passed Dean a plate, then grabbed the utensils. Snagging a coke, he settled down and started to serve himself.

Dean scooped out some of the salad that was heavily laden with cheese crumbles and olives and peppers and onions and dripping with a light Italian vinaigrette. After digging into the bread, he split it equally between them then passed Sam the salad while starting to dig into the lasagna. “Man, look at that cheese,” he said, grinning. “I hope you weren’t waiting on me all morning for breakfast,” he added as an afterthought, glancing at Sam.

“Course not. I had a nice, healthy breakfast shake before I got in. It’s good for keeping up your energy levels.” He started to chew on the lasagna and nodded. “Mmm, I concur. This is great.” He grinned. “I think you’re up...” Seeing the question in Dean’s eyes, he waggled his brows. “Tell me something interesting about yourself.”

Dean began laughing. “I’m up?” He thought for a moment. “Okay...I own a ‘67 Chevy Impala, I call her ‘Baby,’ and she’s black as night. She’s gorgeous. I’ve rebuilt her once or twice, and I’m obsessive compulsive about every little sound she makes. If she doesn’t sound right, I gotta stop and fix her at the first opportunity.” Dean grinned at Sam. “I like old cars, but Baby’s the queen.” He began digging into the lasagna with gusto. He’d missed breakfast.

“Sounds like you’ve got a girlfriend,” Sam said. Damn the images he had in his head, just from the way Dean talked. He wondered if the guy did it intentionally. Of course he did, a part of him said. “Do you, ahh... swing both ways?” he asked directly. “I mean with Jo thinking she and you... not the car,” he gave a short laugh. “Even if there are some people who...”

Dean almost snorted soda out his nose. “I do not make love to my car. I might make love in my car, but not to it. With the right offer, I’ll swing just about any way, like if you...” Dean found himself getting tongue tied again as he tried to tell Sam he was a prostitute. “...Uh, like coming from you, I’m sure I’d be willing to try just about anything.” He felt heat burning his cheeks and looked down at his meal. This wasn’t him. This so wasn’t him! He looked back up at Sam and shrugged. “Let’s just say for some, I’m more easily interested.”

A ‘yes’ might have done just as well, Sam thought, and wasn’t sure why Dean had gotten flustered. It was the first time he’d seen the guy like that. “Dean, are you trying to warn me that you’re... that you’re no saint.” He didn’t know how “a player” would go over. “Cause, I know that. And I know what I’m getting into,” Sam said. “I’m not gonna be asking you to quit being who you are.”

Dean tilted his head and looked at Sam a little curiously. Or maybe baffled was more accurate. So Sam knew he was an escort? That made it easier, because he had no idea why he couldn’t bring himself to just say it to Sam. But that last comment...maybe Sam just meant he wasn’t going to censure Dean for doing what he did, that he wouldn’t call the cops or anything. “Yeah, okay, cause I don’t need saving. We’ve got an...understanding then,” Dean said, relaxing some.

Sam gave a nod. “Give yourself some credit. That,” he waved his hand, “it’s part of your allure.”

“Really? And here I thought it was my charming smile and big wanger,” Dean said with a perfectly straight face.

The spicy Italian sausage lodged in Sam’s throat and threatened to choke him. He managed to swallow it with a loud sound, his eyes wide as he stared at Dean. “That’s not fair. Saying that, when there’s nothing I can do about it right here. Not to mention, surrounded by elevators I can’t get caught in,” he added, not completely joking.

“You don’t like my big...?” He glanced down into his lap. “And you want to do something about it? Or maybe you want to make it bigger?” Dean was keeping his straight face, but only barely. “Hey, I’ll be happy to oblige. For a hundred, I’ll walk off that elevator showing my increased wang. That gives you a few floors in the elevator to do what you want.”

“If we were anywhere... in any building other than here... I’d take you up on that bet,” Sam said. “Now quit making my mind go to places it shouldn’t, at least when all I’ve got to go back to is paperwork.” A moment later, he looked back at Dean. “You wouldn’t really...”

Dean grinned and nodded as he took a big bite of lasagna, his eyes dancing with laughter.

* * *  
[A few days later]

Sam returned from a business trip to New York and left Dean a message letting him know that he was back. Though he wished Dean had called him back already, he didn’t expect the guy to jump at his calls. Dean had made it clear he was interested, but he’d made it equally clear he was just as interested in seeing other guys.

He’d gotten home late last night, and slept in as it was Saturday. Near noon, he decided to go see what was happening at the neighborhood street fair that was being held next to the park. He was hungry and there would likely be some good food choices. There was also some sort of jazz event at the park that might be relaxing and enjoyable.

Still, even as he walked the streets, looking at the offerings of the street vendors, Sam had his cell phone with him and was hoping it would ring.

*

Dean was busy working the street fair, albeit discreetly. Jo had gone home, which was a relief. He bought a cup of coffee since he usually slept this time of the day, but the street fair was a big draw and this fair usually had a strong gay and lesbian component. He wore his tight “working jeans” and a simple dark green t-shirt, that was just tight enough to show off his muscles. He strolled the booths, watching as men either avoided eye contact with him, met his gaze and glanced away, or met his gaze, glanced him over with their gaze lingering a moment on his groin, before returning to meet his gaze. If it was the latter and the guy was alone, Dean moved in. He’d chat the guy up, find out his name and interests, and if it suited him, he’d give the guy his card and let him know he was available for a good time for the right offer. If the guy asked what the right offer was, Dean let them know his hourly price.

While working the crowd, Dean spotted a regular who was walking alone. “Mark, you want some company, and a happy ending?” Dean asked quietly as he brushed his fingers over Mark’s lower back. “You look kinda stressed...”

*

Was that Dean? Sam picked his way through the crowd and saw that it hadn’t just been wishful thinking. Seeing Dean lean over an arts and crafts table, Sam couldn’t help admiring the view before he came up behind him. Putting one hand on the small of Dean’s back, he leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Hey, stranger. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Dean stepped back and straightened but smiled at him. “Sammy! Hey, welcome back. I was gonna call you later if I didn’t see you. Good trip?”

“Tiring, but good,” Sam nodded, stepping back. “You been out here a while? I just got here about a half hour ago. My stomach’s growling like yours but I haven’t seen anything that I’m real interested in eating, at least I hadn’t.” He smiled and didn’t look away.

“Head over by the fountain. Got some Greek, and got some good sandwiches over there,” Dean said, giving him a wink. “I’m sure you’ll find something--at least food-wise--that’s tasty over there.”

“That’s where the jazz groups are playing.” Sam gave a nod. “So... can I buy you some lunch, or dessert?” he asked.

“Yeah, they got some good bands. Thanks, but I can’t,” Dean said, noticing a guy looking the two of them over. Dean returned the guy’s look, staring at him to let him know he was interested.

Sam turned his head and saw the guy too. “Oh... you’re here with someone. Sorry.” He took a step back. “I didn’t mean to... Okay, I’ll catch ya later,” he said, turning away, deeply embarrassed by his mistake.

Dean caught his shoulder and stepped closer to him. “Dude, no. I’m, you know, working. It’s a great crowd for connections. Wanna maybe do lunch tomorrow?” he said, realizing just how much he’d missed Sam and how good it was to see him.

“Working?” Sam frowned. Once again, he turned to the guy still watching them, then slowly turned back to Dean. His gaze slowly slid down Dean’s body, then moved back up to meet his eyes. “Wait. You mean... working. As in... working the street?” Sam asked, not really believing the conclusion his mind was leading him to. “You’re...”

“Yeah. I thought you were okay with this, didn’t want me to change, yadda-yadda-yadda?” He pulled out a card and jotted down ‘you didn’t think I gave it away, did you? C U 4 lunch Sun’ and slipped it into Sam’s hand then turned to catch up with the guy who was watching their interaction. Dean didn’t look back as he began chatting the guy up and guiding him away from Sam.

It really wasn’t the answer Sam had been expecting, though he should have been. Glancing down into the palm of his hand, he read Dean’s note. “Yeah. Yeah, I did think that,” he whispered. “Just thought you had plenty to give away.”

He couldn’t help turning his head to track Dean and his... well, it wasn’t his date, that much was clear. Lunch. Tomorrow. At least it would give Sam some time to think about this.


	3. Chapter 3

Long before lunchtime, Sam was a nervous wreck. He supposed he’d had enough time to get used to the idea, and lots of things he’d seen and heard Dean say fell into place. When it came to his own feelings, there were some things he was uncertain about, but one thing that he knew for sure ... he liked the guy. A lot. And it wasn’t like he’d ever expected them to become exclusive, not when he’d known the guy was a total playboy. 

 

Still. He’d never been in this situation. And he wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to proceed. 

 

He was contemplating getting a shot of liquor when he heard the door across the corridor, then there was a soft rap. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the living room and opened the door. His usual smile was missing, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw Dean. “C’mon in,” he said.

 

Dean hesitated in the doorway; Sam always had a ready smile for him, but that smile was missing today. “You sure?” he asked, meeting Sam’s gaze. “You pissed at me for working yesterday instead of having lunch with you?” he ventured. They hadn’t said they’d have lunch, but it was Sam’s first day back in town. “I wanted to have lunch with you instead of working, if that matters,” he added honestly, surprising himself with that admission.

 

“It matters,” Sam answered, just as honestly. “And no, I don’t think I’m pissed at you. Maybe at myself, for being an idiot. Not picking up the clues.” He stepped back and motioned for Dean to come inside. “Don’t need the ‘hot neighbor’ hearing us.”

 

“Ah, he needs new batteries for his hearing aids. Don’t worry about him. What clues?” Dean asked as he stepped inside. He inhaled deeply. He liked the way Sam’s place smelled. It was always fresh and, well, maybe, just a little bit, innocent. He turned around and slowly walked backwards towards the living room, keeping his gaze focused on Sam.

 

Sam gave a one-shouldered shrug, unwilling to go over all the details, the things Dean wore, the way he looked at and talked to certain people. He’d gone over them too often in his own mind and they were unimportant. “So. The question you wrote on your card.” He waited for a split second to make sure Dean knew what he was talking about. “Yeah... I thought you gave it away. The other night...” His gaze locked with Dean’s and he wondered if he could have been so mistaken. “I could have sworn you and I... if Jo’s mom hadn’t called, we’d...”

 

“Would we have gone there? Yeah. I wanted to, at least. I’ve been,” Dean stopped and ran his hand over his hair. “Look, you...do things to me. Make me feel... _different_ and I’ve been having trouble telling you, my...rates. I like you, Sam. I really do. Do you know how many dates--well, I charge for those, so let’s call them hanging out-- I’ve gone on for free? Or how many guys I’ve been out with where I’ve bought the meal? Since I started being an escort, exactly none. Zip. El-zilcho. Until you. But I gotta draw the line somewhere. I don’t give it away for free. I gotta pay my rent and bills and you know how expensive this place is.” 

 

“Yeah. I know, how expensive it is.” Sam was still mulling over the rest of what Dean said, struggling with whether to believe it and actually fighting against the thrill of hearing he affected Dean. He lifted his eyes to Dean’s. “How much of what you told me is true? Being an artist, coming to town... that stuff.” If everything was a lie, Sam wasn’t sure what he’d do.

 

Dean took hold of Sam’s wrist and tugged him out his door, through his own door, and into his apartment. He pointed at the art on a wall, pointing out the ‘D Win’ signature. “Mine.” He pulled Sam into his “workroom” that doubled as his studio. He opened the closet door and, letting go of Sam’s wrist, grabbed the canvas sitting on an easel and handed it to Sam. It was obviously a work in progress, but it was also, unmistakably, Sam, smile and dimples and all. “Wanna see my GED from the state of Kansas? I’ve got it in the other room in a scrapbook. And some pictures of the works I sold when I was a kid.” His tone wasn’t biting. He got how Sam could be suspicious. “Sam, I’m really good at the charm and lying through my teeth, but I haven’t lied to you.” He gave a shrug.

 

Sam dragged his gaze off the painting, and shook his head. “Okay. I get it. It’s just... what you said. About me making you feel things.” He nodded his head to one side. “It goes for me, too. Everything you said rang true and I wondered if I’d been blinded. I needed to know you weren’t a ‘liar’ before I got in any deeper.” He pointed at Dean. “And I know what you’re thinking - no lawyer jokes.”

 

There was a short silence as Sam took a moment to reach his decisions. “I don’t pay for it... for sex. So... we dating?” he asked, unsure whether the lack of a business opportunity would make Dean’s interest wane.

 

“Obviously, you’ve never had me,” Dean said with a smirk. “You don’t pay, I don’t give it away. I like you. A lot. You get I’ll stop at kissing? No matter how hot and heavy it gets between us, no cash, no nookie. I can’t...afford...a relationship. Not right now. And let’s not call it dating. Let’s call it hanging out together. Doing meals, movies, pool, whatever. If you’re good with that...?” Dean asked, not really sure it was a good idea, but he was enjoying Sam’s company probably a helluva lot more than he should and wasn’t ready to give him up. Besides, who could resist him for long?

 

Sam laughed for the first time since Dean had appeared at his door, which was a record since the guy seemed to know how to make him laugh. “A rose is a rose,” he said, giving him a look. “I’m good with that. But in the interests of disclosure... I plan to do everything I can to get it for free, and not because it’s a challenge. You good with that?” he asked.

 

Dean grabbed Sam’s arm, pulled Sam up against him and kissed him hard and heavy, running his hands under Sam’s shirt, kissing Sam until he finally broke off to breathe. “Oh hell yeah, I’m good with that. So what’s for lunch? It’s your turn to buy. I got the Italian,” he said, panting and giving Sam’s ass a squeeze for good measure.

 

“My turn?” Sam asked a little breathlessly. “I thought _you_ asked me out. Fine.” He gave a nod. As they started to head out, he stopped and looked back at the painting. “Do I need to get my teeth bleached... cause beige...” He made a face and laughed, knowing full well the painting was nowhere near done.

 

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything....” Dean teased right back.

 

* * * 

 

“You haven’t banged him yet? It’s been two weeks.” Seeing the look Sam shot him, Eric lowered his voice as they walked down the halls of the law firm. “No, seriously, what’s up with that?”

 

“We’re taking it one step at a time, seeing where it leads,” Sam said. His colleague couldn’t know how hard he’d tried to get Dean to sleep with him. Dean wanted it too, but he was being stubborn. He guessed they both were.

 

“I heard he’s easy.”

 

“Did you?” Sam asked.

 

“Well, he’s been seen around. Ya know. I’m just saying...”

 

“Saying what?”

 

“I dunno, maybe there’s a reason he’s playing hard to get with you.” Eric gave a shrug.

 

“Or maybe I’m playing hard to get.” Sam stepped into his office. “I got a conference call to get ready for.”

 

* * *

 

It was late. Sam had just finished drafting a brief that had to be filed the next day. He knew he should go to bed because he needed to get up hella early to finalize it and get it filed, but he was still too wired. So he went to a small neighborhood cafe that was open until two or three a.m., depending on whether they had enough customers. The place was pretty eclectic. On the weekends, they even had artists reading poetry or singing or playing instruments.

 

Sam decided to sit outside despite the temperature. There were fewer people because it was cool, but he had his jacket on. 

 

*

 

Dean stood in the alley with Scott. Scott usually only went for a blow job, but he’d broken up with his boyfriend and Dean knew Scott needed more. It took some insinuating, some teasing looks and teasing words, but Scott ponied up the extra cash. 

 

They took their normal place in the alley and Dean sank down to his knees and began working on getting Scott’s pants open. He’d give him some oral stimulation to get him hard, raincoat him, then give Scott something even better than his mouth to fuck. That was the plan anyhow until he happened to catch a glimpse of Sam sitting at the table in front of the cafe where Scott worked. Dean coaxed Scott to a location a little less in the shadows, giving Sam a decidedly better view.

 

At first, Sam had glanced away from the two men in his line of vision, half tempted to call out and tell them to get a room. When he looked their way again, they’d moved. He’d been pouring sugar into his latte but when he recognized Dean, the paper packet fell into his drink as he stared wide-eyed. 

 

He thought his heart was going to stop. That he couldn’t breathe. He felt hot all over as he watched Dean work the other guy’s zipper. Sam was glad the guy’s face was covered by a shadow, though the rest of him and Dean were clearly visible under the light shining down toward them from a window overhead. It made it easy for him to imagine that he was that guy leaning against the wall. That it was his dick that Dean was freeing and...

 

His breaths grew shallow as he imagined what the guy felt as Dean squeezed and stroked his cock. A flash of unjustified anger ran through him when the guy moved his hands to the back of Dean’s head and Sam just knew Dean was being ordered to go down on him.

 

Dean began slowly, practically casually, licking along Scott’s length, sucking lightly on the end occasionally. He smiled as he felt Scott’s fingers tighten in his hair, then sometimes tug, trying to get Dean to take him more fully. Dean refused, leaning in to nuzzle his balls for a bit before going back to work on Scott’s dick. 

 

When Scott started to get demanding. Dean popped open a condom and jacketed Scott’s erection. He popped another packet and spread some lube along it. Rising to his feet, he turned around and placed Scott’s hands on the button of his own pants, coaxing Scott to open his jeans and lower the zipper. He leaned back against Scott while Scott fumbled with Dean’s pants, Dean slipping his fingers through Scott’s hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, encouraging him.

 

He shouldn’t be watching. Sam knew it, but couldn’t help himself and argued that they shouldn’t be there if they didn’t want to be seen. Not that this had anything to do with logic. All he knew was that he’d wanted Dean for so damned long, and the hot kisses and heavy petting just made him want him more. Now... yeah, he still wasn’t getting any, but he could see exactly what he was missing.

 

As he imagined it was his own dick Dean was pressing his sweet ass against, a soft curse left Sam’s lips. He was so damned hard he could probably pound nails with his dick. 

 

Dean was a little surprised when Scott, after opening his pants, didn’t push them down right away. Instead his hand slipped inside, running over Dean’s cock as his other arm closed around Dean’s waist, pulling him close. He heard Scott’s murmured words about missing his ex, and promised that he’d pay extra for touching the merchandise. Dean smiled and gave Scott his mouth as he pushed his pants down some, expertly working them lower and lower until Scott’s cock was sliding along the cleft of his ass as Dean was thrusting into Scott’s hand and kissing him. 

 

Sam’s heart thundered in his ears. Twice, his hand left the table and was about to drop down to his groin until he remembered where he was and pressed his palms down on the table. As he watched Dean’s body move back and forth, he started to hold his breath. His gaze travelled up to Dean’s face. Damn... the guy was beautiful. 

 

He saw the look on Dean’s face change. For a split second, he grimaced. And then he started to bend forward and Sam could see the guy behind him was thrusting his hips. “Fuck....” In his mind’s eye, Sam knew that he’d have wheeled Dean around by now to take him against the wall. But this was better... so much better, because he could see Dean.

 

As the men’s movements started to get more jerky, less-controlled, Sam’s eyelids grew heavy. He watched from under his lashes, torn between staying and running to his apartment. His cock was so damned painful, his need to touch himself was building, sharpening to where he wasn’t certain he could resist much longer.

 

Dean felt Scott growing more and more desperate. He’d lasted longer than Dean expected, having been boyfriendless for a couple weeks. But it was all good and Scott was getting him off too, which he generally tried to avoid until the end of the night, but being able to taunt Sam like this almost made him want to tell Scott not to worry about the extra fee for touching.

 

Dean felt it. The way Scott trembled and shook and thrust and grunted. Dean let himself come, giving Scott everything he needed, milking Scott down to nothing. Once Scott pulled out, Dean tugged pants up, kissed Scott, and took the extra he was owed. Promising Scott to see him next week, he headed out of the alley, whistling. 

 

Dean approached Sam’s table, glancing briefly down at Sam’s tented crotch. “I usually charge people for watching, you know,” Dean told him, licking his lips, wanting to ask if Sam liked what he’d seen.

 

“Dean, did you... did you do it right there because... of course you did.” Sam huffed and looked away, hoping to hell he wasn’t blushing even though his cheeks were burning and he knew he had to be. He shifted in his chair, not that he could hide anything that Dean hadn’t already seen. 

 

When he looked back, he found Dean’s penetrating gaze still trained on him. “I’m not paying for watching. You were on public property,” he said, trying to be as brazen as Dean. 

 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we were. That alley, that’s Scott’s thing. Like you and elevators. And I had no idea you were planning on being here during my ‘date’ with Scott.” He’d neither admit nor deny he’d moved Scott to a better viewing angle for Sam’s pleasure. He glanced down again at Sam’s problem. “I could help you with that, you know. Just gotta say the magic words.” He leaned in closer, close enough Sam could kiss him if he wanted. 

 

Sam’s heart was still racing. This was all sorts of wrong and he knew Dean was just playing with him. Pushing the envelope. That didn’t mean it wasn’t working.

 

Sam licked his burning lips, resisting the urge to kiss Dean... to drag him onto his lap and make Dean make good on his offer. “Why don’t you take a break... and give me one, too,” he pleaded. His gaze dropped to Dean’s irresistible lips, but he pulled back slightly. “Get you some coffee?” he asked, his voice thick and husky.

 

Dean took his hands off the table and straightened, laughing softly at Sam. “Yeah, sure.” He gave Bart a wave and pointed at the table and then at himself. Bart gave him a thumbs up and began making Dean’s favorite and told one of his workers to get Dean a piece of pie.

 

Settling into the chair next to Sam, it took great restraint not to reach out and run his hand over Sam’s thigh, maybe high up on his thigh. Sam had asked for a bit of time to catch his breath, and Dean would honor that...for now, at least.

 

“Anyone ever tell you ‘you suck’?” Sam asked, blowing out a hot breath and begging his body to behave.

 

“Usually they ask me if I suck and I tell them yes,” Dean said, his eyes twinkling. “But I don’t swallow. How about you? Do you suck?” he asked.

 

Sam groaned and wiped a hand over his face. “You’re killing me. I mean. Really. Killin’ me.” When their eyes met, he saw no guilt in Dean’s. Just amusement. “I don’t know whether I hate it or love it.” He finally cracked a smile, then nodded to one side, “Depends on who’s asking me to.”

 

“Nah, I’m not killing you, Sammy. You asked me to give you a break, let you catch your breath. So I’m not touching. Just talking.” Dean leaned back when a waiter set down a piece of apple pie for him and told him it would be another minute for the coffee. “And what if _I_ asked. Do you suck?” Picking up the fork, Dean cut into the pie.

 

Sam licked his lip, and asked huskily, “What do you think?”

 

“Big fat ‘hell, yeah,’” Dean said with a smirk as he offered up the first bit of pie to Sam. “Want a bite, Handsome?”

 

“I thought it was sucking you’re interested in. I can do biting.” Sam gave Dean a look and opened his mouth. He wondered how obvious it was that he wished his mouth was wrapping around something else. Seeing the laughter in Dean’s eyes, he shook his head as he chewed and swallowed. ‘I know.... I know you too well. Yes, it’s sweet and creamy,” he said, just knowing what Dean had been about to toss out.

 

Dean grinned and shook his head. “The things you don’t know about me could fill a high rise. But that’s okay. So did you ever get around to looking up the overnight wonder D. Win? Being a lawyer and all, I kinda figure that puts your curiosity a notch higher than most.” The next piece of the pie Dean took for himself, closing his eyes a moment and giving a soft ‘mmmm.’

 

Concentrated was out of the question as Sam stared at Dean practically making love to the pie. His nostrils flared slightly and he was startled when Dean opened his eyes. “What?” He let out a breath and looked down at the table. 

 

Dean burst into laughter. “Dude, I like pie, but it’s just pie. D. Win. Did you look me up?”

 

“Oh... yeah. D. win... a few scrapes with the law,” he said. “Some gaps in the records. Mostly clean or... cleaned-up record,” he said, showing a flash of his perception. “You’re not wanted for murder, at least not _yet_... cause …” He gave a laugh. “And I tracked down some of your art. You don’t seem like a monsters and demons kind of guy,” he said. There hadn’t been too many, but a couple of the paintings stood out.

 

“Somebody has to draw ‘em right,” Dean said with a nod. “Though only a few people went nutso over my vamps. I mean, c’mon, how could two canines open up enough flesh to get blood to survive on? Even vampire bats don’t suck. They use razor sharp teeth to cut into cow flesh and lick up the blood. But with the love of horror on the rise...maybe I need to get some more pieces back on the market. Lord knows I have enough of them stored away.” He gave the waiter a nod of thanks for the coffee and took a sip, watching Sam. “And no, I’ve never killed a human being, so don’t worry. I don’t plan on changing that fact any time...like ever. And you Mr. Lawyerman, I’ve been looking into you.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened. “Why? I mean... what did you find?” He was almost worried about skeletons he might not even know about.

 

“You get a lot of your clothes at places on Rodeo Drive, or similar stores. Silk ties, Italian leather shoes and belts. And you use a money clip. Sunglasses that cost almost as much as a plane ticket to Japan. You do like to speed when you drive. Oh, and let’s not forget you were the first guy at your high school to show up at the prom with a same gender date. That took balls. Good for you,” Dean said, most definitely approvingly.

 

“That’s some researching skills. How did you …? Never mind, I’m scared to ask,” Sam said, shaking his head. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. It had gotten too cold since he’d forgotten all about it, thanks to Dean’s show. 

 

“I have more skills than a cheap hotel has cockroaches.” Twisting, Dean waved at the waiter inside and indicated a fresh cup for Sam. “So how did you _not_ lose your license when you got nailed doing a hundred on the freeway?”

 

Sam just flashed a grin. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” 

 

He sat back and watched Dean eat for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m jealous of pie now. Clearly you’re driving me insane.” 

 

“Simple solution to that you know,” Dean said, giving him a pointed look. “I’m available the rest of the night. I could add you to my dance card.” He ate another bite of pie, taking a little extra time to chew in a steady rhythm, pausing once to slowly lick his lips before finally swallowing.

 

Sam gave a sigh. “I pay for _things_ , not people. I want someone to dance with me cause the music’s good and the moment’s right.” He’d been sure Dean would come around, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Didn’t mean he was out of the game though. “Wanna come over and watch late night movies Frid... no, Saturday?” he asked.

 

“Got yourself a hot date on Friday?” Dean said teasingly.

 

Sam looked up as a fresh cup of coffee was brought to him. “Thanks,” he said reaching for the sugar. “Maybe. If a deal I’m working on doesn’t fall through and ruin it.” He noticed Dean hadn’t answered him about Saturday.

 

“Hey, I’m the only one you should be working a deal with,” Dean said. “I’m gonna be pissed if you work out a deal with someone else before me.” He tried hard not to, but he knew his brows were furrowed a little in annoyance even as he tried to keep his tone light. “And hell yeah, Saturday night, but it’ll have to be like prime-time. I can bring a movie for us to watch.” 

 

Sam wasn’t sure whether Dean was joking, but even if it was fake jealousy, it made him feel good. “It’s a date, then.” Already, he was planning out a seduction in his mind. Even if he failed again, the journey was always fun.

 

“Hanging out. We’re hanging out. I charge for dates, remember? Course even just hanging out we could maybe getting a little...frisky during the movie. You want the last bite?” Dean asked, holding up his fork which had the final bite of the pie, and offering it to Sam.

 

“I don’t really have a sweet tooth,” Sam said, though he opened his mouth and accepted the pie. “Mmm. Sweet.” He was looking directly at Dean. “Maybe I’m developing a taste for it after all.” 

 

Leaning across the table, Dean slipped his hand behind Sam’s head and pressed their lips together, licking along the seam of Sam’s mouth, begging entrance. When Sam opened, Dean’s tongue immediately slipped inside, sweeping the roof of Sam’s mouth, tangling their tongues, then investigating every niche with dedicated thoroughness. A soft groan escaped him as his fingers tightened a little in Sam’s hair. 

 

Moaning into the kiss, Sam leaned in, kissing Dean back with everything he had, trying to replace the memory of Dean with that guy in the alley. He was too successful, too quickly. He pulled away and drew a few harsh breaths. “If i don’t let you go now... I won’t,” he said, his eyes bright with desire.

 

Dean drew in a long slow breath. “You gotta do what you gotta do,” Dean said, pulling his fingers through Sam’s hair, then running a finger from Sam’s temple, along his cheek bone, brushing over his lips, and finally let his hand drop. “I wish...” 

 

For one heart-stopping moment, Sam thought Dean was going to give over. They both wanted it. But even before Dean said more, Sam knew tonight wasn’t the night.

 

Taking another deep breath, Dean got to his feet and took a last sip of coffee. “Guess I should get back to work since there are no more takers here tonight. You should be getting to bed, Handsome. Dark circles don’t really flatter anyone.” He dropped a ten on the table and gave Sam a wink before turning away.

“You too,” Sam answered, knowing it wasn’t happening. Adding his own money to the table, he got up. He knew exactly what... who... he’d be dreaming about tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean looked at the calendar, crossed off days, and tallied his hours. He still had another nine months to go. Giving a soft sigh, he looked at the note he’d posted about tomorrow night, his date with Sam. Why the hell did the guy have to be so stubborn? Dean knew part of the reason he wanted Sam so much was because he couldn’t have him, but hell, the guy was hot and haunted his dreams. If he wasn’t careful, one of these times when a john jacked him off, he was gonna shout Sam’s name by mistake.

Hearing Sam’s door open, he couldn’t help but crack his own door. “Holy crap,” slipped out before he’d realized it. Sam was dressed in tight jeans and a nice button-down shirt. He looked like he hadn’t shaved, but it gave him an edgy look that looked hot on him. Hell, Sam looked the hottest he’d ever seen Sam look.

The soft curse had Sam looking across the hall. He caught a glimpse of Dean through the crack in the door. When Dean opened the door up the rest of the way, Sam gave Dean a nod and saw that he had the mailbox key in his hand. So it looked like they’d all be riding down the elevator together.

“Found it.” It was Sam’s date’s voice calling out, from inside his apartment. “Be there in a New York mo.”

Sam smiled and looked down for a moment. “You getting your mail?” he asked Dean, though, what he really wanted to know was whether Dean was here to check out his date. Nah, Dean wouldn’t give a crap about that.

Dean had missed seeing Sam’s date arrive, but he was damned well going to see what he looked like before they left. Maybe he could hit on Sam’s date and steal him away from Sam and then the next night...Sam would be too pissed to keep their date. “Uh, yeah. Haven’t quite made it down there yet today. Thought I’d grab a cup of coffee across the street, too. So...where is your New Yorker friend taking you tonight?”

“I think...” Before Sam finished, he was joined at the door by a tall, dark haired, well-dressed man pocketing his cell phone.

The man glanced at Dean, saw his torn jeans and mussed hair and dismissed him immediately. “Sam?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam pulled the door shut and locked it, but was surprised that Dean was still standing there. “Ah... Charles Bauer, Dean Winchester,” he said, feeling a little awkward, though there was no reason for it.

Charles gave Dean a watery smile and nod, then started to walk down the hall. “We can’t be late or they’ll give our table away,” he said.

Sam followed, lengthening his strides and lightly putting his hand behind Charles’ back. “I think it’s just a threat they like to put out there. They’ll hold the table.”

Dean stayed back about five steps so as not to be crowding them, but he couldn’t help the steady glare he was giving ’Charles.’ How fucking pretentious was that? They reached the elevator and when the doors didn’t open right away, Dean couldn’t help but ask, “So Charles, have you known my neighbor long?” he asked as politely as he could, but even he could hear the slight bite to his words.

Charles first looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows in question, before looking at Dean. “Not very long. We met briefly at a business function. I liked what I saw.” The elevator dinged. “Thank God,” he said under his breath, stepping inside.

Sam mouthed ‘What are you doing?’ to Dean, before stepping inside the elevator. When Dean stepped inside, Sam had to admit his heart skipped a beat at the intense look in his eyes. He’d have traded ten Charles’ for one Dean, any freakin’ day of the week.

“Ah, a business function. That’s specific,” Dean muttered, following them in, barely resisting stepping between the two. It would have been so damned easy. “So where are you two crazy kids going tonight?” he asked, finding it really hard to play the charm card instead of the intimidate card. And it would be so damned easy to ruin that dime store rip off suit. He had never wanted a really nice, really expensive suit before...now.

“What’s with the third degree?” Charles looked at Dean, then at Sam. “Do you two have something...”

‘No. No,” Sam insisted, giving Dean a quelling look. “He’s just... Dean’s very curious, that’s all. You know artists, they ask a million questions and....”

“Artists,” Charles sniffed, then looked at Dean. “We’re going somewhere out of reach for a starving artist.”

“Charlie!” Sam snapped at him, then looked at the floor numbers lighting up on the strip at the top of the elevator. Why did it feel like it was taking forever to get to the ground floor?

“Who said I was starving? I live here, after all, not some cockroach infested apartment. I’m the next rising star in the art world,” Dean said cooly, pulling out his wallet and a stack of hundred dollar bills from inside it. He handed Charles four, one hundred dollar bills. “This date’s on me. Oh wait. That’s probably still a little low-brow for a man with a knock-off designer suit. Here’s another two hundred.” He slapped the two extra bills into his hand. When the elevator finally reached the ground floor and its doors opened, Dean pushed between them and stepped off the elevator, heading straight out the door, seething.

Sam closed his hand over his face. Just what the hell?

“What was that?” Charles demanded.

“Yeah. I dunno. About either of you, I mean.” Sam put his hand out for the cash, then pocketed it.

“Why?”

“You were baiting him, he was baiting you. I dunno.”

Trying to regain the pleasant note their date had started out on, Charles gave Sam a smile. “We’re need to get going or we’ll lose our table.” He nodded toward the front door of the lobby as the elevator started to buzz because they’d held the door open too long. He stepped out and waited for Sam to join him.

“You go ahead,” Sam said. “I’m not in the mood anymore. G’night.” He pressed the ‘close door’ button and ignored Charles’ angry expression.

* * *  
Dean knew he should have worked last night, but after the thing with ‘Charles,’ he was too pissed to be charming enough to be able to hook up with the type of guys he preferred. Instead, he’d taken a cab down to the expensive part of town and walked into the classiest place he could find. After making his purchase he got directions to a five star restaurant that he made sure served steak and where he could read the freaking menu. He put in a reservation for the next night. After that he dropped his new purchases off and then went out to a local bar and got toasted.

It was now morning. Late morning anyhow. He wrote a note and shoved it under Sam’s door, then decided he was taking the fucking day off. He worked out, went to the gun range, drove his car all over town, tweaked the engine, cleaned out the car, and washed and waxed his baby.

He finally came back, crashed for an hour, then got ready for his date with Sam. “I can’t believe I spent more on this monkey suit than three month’s rent,” he grumbled to himself, then sucked in a breath before leaving his place and stepping across the hall to knock on Sam’s door. He’d told Sam in the note to be dressed in his nicest suit and to be hungry, ready to eat, and to dance. Why the hell did he suddenly feel nervous?

Sam tugged his door open and forced himself to show no reaction to seeing Dean all dressed up and heart stoppingly handsome. “You have got to be kidding. After last night,” he said, staring at him.

“Hey, at least I didn’t just pull you into my arms, kiss the hell out of you, and tell dickhead to get lost. And I didn’t shoot him. I think the option I took showed a helluva lot of restraint. Besides, what the hell did I really do wrong? I asked the guy where you met and where you were going. When he insulted me, I didn’t punch him or call him dickhead. You gotta admit, if the guy had any charm or personality, he’d a rolled with it, but no he just got shitty...kinda like I did,” Dean added reluctantly.

“C’mon, I washed and waxed Baby, cleaned her out, and got us reservations at a steak joint.” He gave Sam the best puppy dog eyes he could. “I’m sorry.” He held out a bottle of expensive wine. “Really sorry.”

“I really, really want to tell you to take a hike,” Sam said, wishing he could steel his heart and shield it from this man. A guy like Dean could shatter it without even breaking a sweat. Slowly, he pulled the door open wider. “It’s not a competition. And you don’t have to take me anywhere. I was taking him out last night,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s always a competition. And I want to take you somewhere. Even if we’re at an impasse about doing more than kissing and a bit of groping, I’ll take what I can get. As hokey as it sounds, your company will just have to be enough, unless you change your mind. And dude, the guy was a loser. That’s part of it, you know. Dissing your competition.” He tried on his charming smile to see if Sam was buying.

“It doesn’t sound hokey, it sounds nuts. You have to know that,” Sam said. The truth was, Sam would take what he could get from Dean, too, which was just as nuts. “I’ll... I’ll change,” he said, taking a few steps back, taking a long look at how sharp Dean looked. “On the table, that’s yours.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug and disappeared into the bedroom.

Dean set the wine down on the table and saw the six, one hundred dollar bills he’d given to Charles. He picked up the money and thumbed through it. “I don’t supposed he spent that money and you’re offering me this money for a good time tonight?” Dean asked, knowing the truth but wanting to deny it.

“I don’t suppose you could forget what you do for a living and just... you know...” Sam answered through the partially open door as he selected a suit and started to change. “I give lots of people who I like free advice.”

“I would--” he saw the eyes shining back at him in the image reflected off the countertop’s polished stone surface and growled to himself. “--but I just can’t. Not for...not even for you.” He flipped the image the finger then raised his hands indicating his surrender. “So we’ll just have to keep driving each other crazy.”

Half-dressed, Sam came to the door and looked out as he was putting his tie on. “Dean is that... is that like a fetish or a … I dunno, a sexual issue? Like... you know, you can’t come without getting paid or something?”

“It’s a fucking lesson,” Dean muttered under his breath. He debated how to answer the question without breaking the rules. “You know how people go through phases? Call this a phase. Hasn’t always been this way. Someday, it may not be this way, but right now, the rules are hard and fast. No pay, no sex. But hey, if you’ve got some sexual fantasies or fetishes, I’m all over that. Would love to hear them.”

“You said you shined up your car?”

Dean grinned. “Washed her, waxed her, polished her inside and out.”

“Car sex. That’s my fantasy,” Sam told him, pulling the knot of his tie up, his gaze locking with Dean’s. “Back seat.”

Dean’s breath caught and his eyes went a little out of focus as he imagined the two of them in the back of the Impala. His formerly soft cock began to harden a little at that image. He gave Sam a glare. “Stop that. Or I’ll make all future elevator rides hell for you,” he threatened, but there was a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “You sure you’re not paying me for a happy ending?” he said, holding up the six hundred dollars.

Sam had been imagining them in the back seat but Dean’s words brought him back to reality. “You’re impossible,” he huffed, disappearing into the bedroom again.

A few moments later, he emerged, with his hair brushed and his jacket on. “You’re still standing there. I should’a brought up the car thing a long time ago,” he concluded, now wondering if he’d have a shot at the end of the night if he talked enough about sex in classic cars.

“Wouldn’t matter,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “No pay, no play.” Forcing his attention away from what he couldn’t have, he focused on what was in front of him. “You look...awesome,” he told Sam, stepping up to him and giving him a slow, leisurely kiss. “You ready to go?”

“No. Not yet.” Sam pulled Dean into his arms and lowered his own mouth over Dean’s, kissing him hard, dominating the kiss as he walked him backwards towards the door. When he had Dean pressed up against it, he said, “You think you know everything about sex and … playing around. And I may be just a country boy with vanilla tastes by your standards. But you could still be missing out on something.” His eyes, hot and full of promises, backed up his statement.

Sam brought his mouth down over Dean’s again, this time holding him like he would a lover, his hands running all over him, holding him close, practically manhandling him, though he was gentle. It was a heated battle, a lot of pushing and pulling, soft groans punctuated by grunts. By the time Sam released Dean and stepped back, he was completely out of breath, and completely hard and wondering if his plan had backfired. “If you change your mind... you let me know,” he said huskily, not hiding any of his longing.

Dean had kissed and been kissed countless times, but that kiss from Sam, yeah, he had to put that up in the top ten...top five of the best fucking kisses he’d ever been given. He was panting hard and all he wanted to do was rip Sam’s clothes off or rip his own off. Cold shower, cold shower, cold shower... Dean said over and over to himself to try to get his cock to just calm the hell down.

“When this phase of my life is done with, I hope like hell you’re still single,” Dean said, then licked his lips and shook his head. “No changing my mind though. I just....sorry. I can’t. We still on for dinner? Dancing? Making out in the back seat?”

“With you as my interfering neighbor, do I have a prayer of shacking up with anyone else,” Sam countered, taking a cooling breath and putting his hand behind Dean’s back to get the door knob, and waiting for him to move. As Dean brushed against him, Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to drive out thoughts of giving in and paying him for one night.

“You really want me to answer that?” Dean said, an impish smirk on his lips.

* * *

It was a week later and Sam had a late nighter at work. He had pulled into the parking lot around three a.m., noticing Dean’s car was parked a little crooked. By the time he got out of his vehicle, he saw Dean was next to his car, leaning against it and kind of bent forward.

A flash of jealousy ran through him as he imagined Scott or Mike, or whoever the hell else had drank from that fountain, on their knees pleasuring Dean. He didn’t want to get caught watching, not again, so he went around to his trunk and reached for his briefcase.

Dean was trying to keep his feet, he really was, but he fucking hurt. His back was probably one solid bruise from getting slammed into a wall a couple times. He wouldn't be shocked to find he had a minor concussion, and he had a zillion little minor wounds where he went through that window. The ghost had been a bitch to take down.

He finally forced himself to straighten up. He needed to get upstairs, get some painkillers in him, maybe some whiskey, and start digging out all the freaking glass still embedded in his arms and chest and thighs. And some ice on his back. That sounded awesome. Feeling like he was walking like an old man, he slowly headed for the elevator, hoping against hope he wouldn’t run into anyone.

“Dean?” Sam asked, then called his name out again, slamming his trunk and going after him. “Are you alri... Dean! What happened to you?” he asked, immediately putting his arm around Dean and helping him get to the elevator. The light was brighter near the elevator bank. “You’re bleeding.”

Mouth flattening into a straight line, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911, cursing when he had no signal. He’d redial when they got out on the lobby level.

“No hospital,” Dean said with a small shake of his head. “I’ll be fine in a couple days. I just need to get some Vicodin in me and a half a pint of whiskey, and maybe some ice on my back. No big. The blood makes it look a lot worse than it is.” He wanted to push Sam away, tell him he was fine, but honestly, the drive back had taken about the last of his strength and he was tired and hurting and just really wanted to sleep for awhile.

“What? No! I’m calling the police. You need to tell them who did this to you,” Sam said, anger tingeing his voice as he helped Dean inside. He was about to punch the “L” button but Dean knocked his hand away and pressed the button for their floor. “What are you doing? You don’t have to let them get away with this,” Sam said heatedly.

“Dude, I won. I was helping out a family being harassed by an evil bastard. I wasn’t jumped or anything. I met a few walls and a window in the fight, but in the end, the bastard was kicked out and isn’t coming back. There’s nothing to report to the police. I swear. The family is safe, the bastard is gone, and I just really, really need some pain killers and sleep.”

“Dean, you don’t have to lie to me,” Sam shot back. “I already know your line of business, but there’s no excuse for... What?” he asked frustrated by Dean’s blank look. As if it wasn’t perfectly clear he’d been beaten up by some John. “Fine. It’s none of my business, I get it. But I’m fixing you up. It’s that or I am calling the cops,” he said.

Dean gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine, whatever. You can fix me up. But really, the guys I hook up with, no, I don’t do the violent type. Maybe a little S&M and bondage, but they’re the ones wanting to get tied up and flogged. A lot of role play. And really? Why would I lie? If I got my ass kicked by some jerk, I’d admit it unless it was like a ten year old.”

“You look like you did... get your ass kicked,” Sam answered with finality. When the door opened, he helped Dean down the hall and got him into his own apartment. “Sit,” he ordered, pulling a chair out in the kitchen where the light was bright. Seeing his state, Sam shook his head then went to get his med kit.

When he got back, he set it down on the counter. “Let’s get your shirt off.” As he started to peel it off Dean, he saw him wince. “Would you rather I cut it off?” he asked, his worried gaze meeting Dean’s.”

“One. Painkillers. Two. Alcohol. Three... the shirt’s toast. You might as well cut it off. I think it was a dollar or two from a thrift store anyhow. And even if I did get my ass kicked, I still won.”

“I just have aspirin. Okay, gimme your keys and tell me where everything is,” Sam said. “Even though I don’t think that’s a good combo...” He knew the minute Dean was alone, he’d probably help himself to the meds and liquor anyway, so it made no sense to make him suffer until he got there.

By the time he got back from getting Dean’s med kit, he saw that Dean was already helping himself to some whiskey. He slapped the drugs into his hand, and went to get a glass of water.

Dean pulled out his phone and made note of what pills he swallowed with the whiskey and how much whiskey he was planning on drinking. He added another note as to when he could take more pain killers. He saw he had a message on his phone and called. He gave a smile and when Sam returned with the glass of water, he hit replay on the message and turned it on speaker. “A thank you from the family.”

An obviously relieved man thanked Dean, then a woman who sounded close to tears, and then a little girl who proclaimed her next stuffed animal was going to be named Dean so it could help keep everyone safe like Dean had. Dean took another swig of the whiskey. “It’s the little things that make this worth it.”

Sam had been so sure, so sure Dean was lying that he hadn’t let him explain more earlier. Because he had a real thing about being lied to and hadn’t wanted Dean to dig himself in deeper. The guy would never know how relieved Sam was now.

He gave a nod. “I’m sorry. For... for not believing you.” Bending, he kissed Dean very lightly, then pulled back. “Next time call the cops instead of playing hero,” he added. “You may sometimes play a cop in bed, but you’re not one.”

Grabbing the scissors, he started cutting Dean’s shirt off.

Dean licked his lips after the kiss. “Sometimes it’s not a job for the cops. Sometimes it’s gotta be a hun--hero. And for the record, I’m pretty good at what I do. Everything that I do. If I want to be good at it.”

“You’re really something.” Sam gave him a look and dragged a chair over. “Pour the rest of that water in my face if I faint,” he said, as he started to pluck out pieces of glass sticking out of Dean. He made a face when he reached a big piece surrounded by rivulets of blood running down Dean’s chest.

“I am really something. I promise you that,” Dean said, watching Sam, studying his handsome profile, the way the light and shadows played across his face, and trying not to make any sounds of complaint as Sam worked on him.

* * *  
[One week later]

Dressed sharply in a suit and tie, Sam found himself knocking on Dean’s door. When Dean didn’t open immediately, he knocked again. “Dean? Dean, you in there? C’mon man, open the door.” He needed a favor. Badly.

Cracking open the door, Dean waved Sam inside. He had a towel wrapped low around his hips and he had shaving cream on half of his face. “Shut the door. I don’t show off this bod to just anyone.. What’s wrong? Need a hero?” he asked giving Sam a smirk and wink.

Sam stood there with his mouth open. He worked his jaw, but no words came out. Raising his hand, Sam tried again, then gave up and walked inside, trying not to to stare but failing miserably.

Dean waved him back to the bathroom where he stepped in front of the mirror and continued shaving. “Sammy, I know I’m gorgeous, but it’s not my fault you kept pounding on the door while I was shaving. You sounded like you need something?” He glanced in the mirror at Sam’s high end suit. “Or are you just going to warn me away from doing the twenty question thing with your date this time?”

“Ah... Did you know I was coming over?” Sam asked, knowing it was an illogical suspicion, but this was Dean. “I mean, were you standing around waiting for me to knock?” Yeah, that sounded nuts. “Never mind.”

Dean gave him a curious look.

Sam took a step back, putting more room between them so he could think straight. “Yeah... I mean no. I... Look, I have a firm event to go to and my date canceled. I thought you might...” he nodded toward the door. “Stand in for him.” He didn’t want to use the word ‘date,’ because he knew what Dean’s answer would be. “I mean... think about it, free food, nice place, and afterwards, we can go somewhere cooler. Besides, you can’t be working again yet.” Despite his prior injuries though, Sam had to admit Dean looked remarkably well healed.

“You want me to be your date? I charge five hundred an hour,” Dean said, knowing exactly what Sam was trying. Sam was really kinda beginning to irritate him about the whole thing, even if he did want to jump Sam’s bones.

“No one’s worth five hundred an hour,” he exclaimed, though he remembered it was about what his firm charged for his time. “Okay... you might be, but I’m not looking to buy your time. I’m asking a favor. If I promise to keep my hands off you, that can’t count as a date,” he said. “You bled in my kitchen,” he added, hoping the reminder would sway Dean.

Dean rinsed off the razor and wiped away the last few vestiges of shaving cream from his face then turned to face Sam. “Let me ask you something. If I came to you and said I needed you to represent me at a criminal trial for free, even though I’ve easily got enough cash to pay for your time, would you do it?”

“A one day trial, like a DUI or something like that? Yeah, Dean, I would.” Being on the receiving end of a disbelieving stare, Sam raised his hands up in defeat. “Alright. Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll call Charles and hope he doesn’t hold grudges.”

Turning away, he started heading for the front door.

“You would. Really?” Dean said, trying hard to ignore the Charles dig. He gave a frustrated sigh. “All right. Yeah. As a favor. I gotta make a few phone calls and get dressed. Give me twenty minutes, max.”

“Really?” Sam almost felt guilty just because Dean looked unhappy with his decision. “Alright, just... knock when you’re ready,” he said, walking out the door. Before he pulled the door shut, though, he ended up pushing it open again.

“Dean. It’s alright, I... You don’t have to do this,” he called out.

Dean stepped back out of his room, towel still low on his hips. “Sam, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just....complicated. I guess I just want to be sure you get that I’m a professional escort. It’s my current profession. A lot of times people try to take advantage of people in my line of work. You saying that you’d do a pro bono case for me...okay, I think you do get it. So yeah, I’m cool with doing it as a favor, but you should’a just asked me for the favor, not put it the way you did, like you wanted to go out on a date, but didn’t want to pay for it. Now, unless you want me to charge you for seeing the merchandise, scat. I’ll be over in a few.”

“Well I do want to go on a date...” Sam gave a sigh. “You’re right... it’s complicated. I’ll see ya in a few,” he gave a nod and retreated out into the hall, wondering how much Dean charged for ‘seeing the merchandise.’


	5. Chapter 5

There had been a little awkwardness at first, mostly because Sam had never seen Dean irritated or … or something. Maybe he just hadn’t been expecting the reaction he’d received. And maybe he was questioning whether the friendship he felt was real. He’d been surprised by the question Dean had put to him, asking if he’d help out with a legal issue as a favor. It was more than that, he realized. He was surprised that Dean had thought his answer would be ‘no.’ 

 

By the time they’d arrived at the firm party celebrating the merger of a new group into the firm, Sam forgot about the awkwardness. He had to say, Dean made it very easy. He seemed to fit in with every group, almost changing like a chameleon to act conservative with the more conservative set, and being as colorful as he liked with those who gave as good as they got.

 

By ten o’clock, people started leaving. He and Dean joined up with a group that headed out to the House of Blues. They listened to a well-known rock band, drank and socialized for a couple of hours, then left with an even smaller group to hang out at some hip gay bars in West Hollywood.

 

Relaxing now that he was away from the firm atmosphere, Sam ordered another round of drinks and sat back against the plush pillows of the sofa. They were at a hotel’s rooftop bar, with a swimming pool in the middle, and lots of intimate groupings of loveseats. 

 

Dean had been surprised that Sam had carefully not touched the merchandise all night long. That’s the way it had to be, but it was killing Dean to be equally well-behaved. He hadn’t gone out with just a friend...well, since those few months back, not that he really had a lot of friends, but to just hang with someone? It was nice. Even if he was playing a role for the guy, being the perfect date, the perfect friend, the perfect guy everyone wanted a word with.

 

Now that he had a couple...okay, several...drinks in him, he kept glancing over at Sam. After a moment of hesitation, his hand slipped over to rest on Sam’s thigh. Leaning in he whispered in Sam’s ear, “You know I canceled six appointments to be here with you tonight. But I’ve enjoyed it.” He blew in Sam’s ear then as he squeezed his thigh. 

 

“Six...” Sam started to laugh, thinking it was a joke, but he turned to look at Dean. “Six?” His gaze dropped to the hand on his thigh, then lifted to meet Dean’s. “That’s, ah... a lot of rounds.” He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and looked away. Still, he couldn’t ignore the heat of Dean’s palm on his thigh. Or the rounds he wanted to go with Dean, though it didn’t look like it was gonna happen.

 

“Short appointments. I’m still a little too bruised and wounded to do...ah, the full Monty.” He gave Sam a wink and slowly rubbed Sam’s thigh. “Did you have a good time tonight? Was I better time than _Chuck_?”  
“Who?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Why does _Chuck_ even m... matter,” he stuttered, drawing a sharp breath. “I, ah...” he licked his lips and tried to get his thoughts under control, which was difficult when his body was responding to Dean’s unsubtle touches. “I thought it was a ‘no touching’ outing.” He steered clear of the word ‘date.’ 

 

“Never said _I_ couldn’t touch,” Dean said, leaning in and running his tongue up the side of Sam’s neck.

 

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut and he automatically moved his face, bringing his mouth close to Dean’s. “What are you playing at now?” he asked, sounding a little tortured. His mouth burned for a kiss.

 

“Who said I’m playing? You know the rules. We can kiss, make out a little. More than that is off limits. I’m feeling good, had a good evening, good company, good food and drinks. I wouldn’t mind a little sugar to sweeten the evening. You wanna gimme a little sugar, Sammy?” Dean asked, licking his lips and focusing on Sam’s.

 

“You know I do,” Sam answered, searching Dean’s eyes before closing his fist over the front of Dean’s perfectly pressed shirt and tugging him closer. He covered Dean’s mouth, kissing him hungrily. It was always hard keeping his hands off Dean, but tonight he’d had to refrain completely, and it had been sheer torture. 

 

As their tongues tangled, as they moved together in a perfect rhythm, he wondered for the thousandth time why Dean wouldn’t relent. It made no sense, especially when they could be so good together. 

 

Damn, he loved the way Sam tasted, the way he kissed. He couldn’t deny he was finding it harder and harder to keep his mind on his clientele, when often his mind drifted back to Sam. It was obvious though that Sam just wasn’t going to relent and Dean couldn’t. If Sam didn’t make the move and offer the cash, they were both just shit out of luck.

 

Tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair, the moan that escaped him was soft but real. His other hand ran over Sam’s shoulder and played with the front of his shirt but he didn’t do more than finishing taking off Sam’s already loosened tie.

 

The sudden tug, then the drag of his tie as it was pulled off him, sent heat surging through Sam. Groaning softly, he kissed Dean again and again, wondering if there was such a thing as being addicted to one person. The urge to press against him, to push him into the sofa grew increasingly harder to resist. Sam slid his hand up and down Dean’s side, then gripped his hip, mostly to prevent himself from going too far. 

 

Dean wanted Sam. He wanted Sam more and more and more. His kisses grew more intense, but the image of the Trickster suddenly popped into his mind. He broke off the kiss, his breath catching. “Damn, you’re addictive.”

 

He reached out and gripped the glass of alcohol and gave a sharp upending of the glass, drinking the double shot down. Steeling himself against the knowledge of just how far he could and couldn’t go, he interlaced his fingers with Sam’s. “Now we can’t touch. Just our lips,” he whispered to Sam and began a slow, torturous exploration, first by planting light kisses along Sam’s jaw line, then up his cheek, to his temple, before kissing along his eyebrow.

 

Breathing heavily, Sam curled his fingers slightly, holding Dean’s hand tight as he tried to chase Dean’s mouth. When their lips brushed, he leaned in and stole a kiss, sucking Dean’s lower lips into his mouth. “You’ve got more rules than the tax code,” he complained, kissing his way around the shell of Dean’s ear. “And not enough loopholes.”

 

“No argument there,” Dean sighed. “But I didn’t write the contract. And stop that. I’m trying to do the whole sweet nothing kisses and you keep moving. Close your eyes and relax. Don’t make me straddle you,” he threatened, knowing he couldn’t do that, not without being sure to regret it later. 

 

It was one thing to be in the middle of a heated kiss. It was an entirely different matter to be subjected to soft, loving kisses, and to be aware of being in public. “All these... these people,” Sam started, but once Dean’s mouth was pressing hot kisses to the side of his neck, all he could do was lean his head back and give Dean better access. “You’re evil. Pure evil... use unfair tactics,” he muttered, struggling with his desires. He was starting to wonder how long he could hold out.

 

“All what people? There’s just you and just me. Close your eyes. Let the voices get buried in the distant sound of traffic, in the music, in the clink of glasses...get lost in my kisses,” Dean said, doing his best to keep the kisses gentle and romantic rather than the hot hungry kisses he’d rather be giving. But these kisses were less likely to raise either of their flagpoles… at least, not to full mast.

 

It was good, too damned good. It made Sam think... made him wish for things, unexpected things. Like breakfasts in bed together, or messing around at picnics. Of something more than friendship or dates. Things he’d never thought he was interested in. “Oh God...” he licked his lips. “Come with me to...”

 

Sam’s eyes opened. He swallowed and took a breath, then slowly pulled away. “Good time for a break,” he said, focusing on Dean, glad that he looked as hot and bothered as Sam felt.

 

“Only if you tell me where you wanted me to come with you to,” Dean said, breathing heavier than he’d like, but grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sam protested, though his eyes shifted in the direction of the men’s room. Wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about that earlier. He reached for his drink, lifted it to his lips, and watched Dean from under his lashes. Too hot. Too cool. Too much of what he wanted. Of what he hadn’t thought he needed. Seeing as they were at an impasse, he was fucked. Totally fucked.

 

Dean laughed and, settling back next to Sam on the couch, sort of snuggled up to him. Waving to the waitress, he ordered a beer so he had something to drink a little slower than double shots of whiskey. “Aw, and here I was hoping for a romantic declaration of come with me to my cabin in the woods, or Italy or something. Not that I fly, so we’d have to go by boat to Italy.”

 

“I might have, but,” Sam gave a one shouldered shrug, “I don’t want to argue. _This_ is better.” Even if he wasn’t certain how long he could keep up this hanging in the land of ‘in between.’ He picked his tie up off the table and looped it around his neck, but left it loose, then put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and gave him a light kiss.

 

Dean looked into the man’s eyes. “You’re a strange one lawyerman, but whatever makes you happy.” He rested his hand on Sam’s thigh, not to tease, but just to be touching Sam, and picked up his fresh beer as he watched the people around them. Damn Sam for being so freaking stubborn.

 

* * * 

 

It was close to 3:00 a.m. when Sam pulled into the underground parking lot of their building. He’d driven fast, broken his own record, and found it interesting that Dean hadn’t complained or asked him to slow down. 

 

They got out of the car and headed for the elevator bank, drawing closer to each other with each long stride that they took. They’d steamed each other up, cooled off, and went at it again. Glancing at Dean, Sam’s mouth curved into a smile at seeing Dean’s lips were a little swollen. 

 

As he punched the call button, he couldn’t look away.

 

Dean could see by Sam’s slightly flushed look how worked up he was, how much Sam was wanting it. Would he come through with the cash? He doubted it, but he’d see how far he could entice Sam, how much he could make Sam see just how much it would be worth it.

 

With no one else around at this time of night, Dean wasn’t shy about letting his hands drift over Sam’s body. Just barely touching him as his hands brushed over fabric, he teased himself with the heat he could feel coming from Sam. “It’s been a good night,” Dean whispered into his ear before lightly kissing it.

 

Sam inhaled sharply, his arm automatically going around Dean’s waist. The elevator doors opened and in two steps, Sam bodily pushed Dean inside and had his back against the wall. Before the doors slid shut, Sam brought his mouth down over Dean’s in a wet, hot, aggressive kiss. His body flooded with heat, with desire, with a pulsing need that wouldn’t be denied. Shoving his hand between their bodies, he started to unbutton Dean’s shirt, his other hand still firmly clamped around Dean’s waist and holding him close. 

 

Dean winced as his bruised back was practically slammed into the wall, but the way Sam was kissing him made the pain seem distant. Sam’s touch burned where it was pressed around his waist. A moan escaped him as he returned Sam’s kiss. He should tell Sam to stop, he knew he should, but he knew where the boundaries were, where he absolutely had to say no pay/no play and they weren’t there yet. And he wasn’t ready to stop.

 

With one hand, Sam undid Dean’s tie, then stepped back. His nostrils flared slightly as he took deep breaths and stared into the depths of Dean’s fathomless green eyes. “Want you,” he whispered thickly, before rolling both ends of Dean’s tie around his fists and tugging him close. Lowering his head, he took Dean’s mouth in another hungry kiss, weaving his tongue in and out, making silent promises of how it could be between them.

 

Dean didn’t hold back, for a moment pretending the deal, the contract, didn’t exist. That he and Sam would be able to finish this properly. He dug his fingers into Sam’s back, running them down the firm muscles until he reached that tight ass. He was lost in the kiss, wanted to be lost in the kiss as he pressed against Sam, grinding their hard cocks together.

 

Dangerously close. It was getting dangerously close to where Dean had to say stop. He knew it, wanted to say fuck it, but he remembered why he’d made the damned deal in the first place. He closed his eyes and just focused on kissing Sam.

 

It wasn’t enough, not for Sam. His hand roamed over hot, smooth skin stretched taut over well-defined muscles. A flare of heat shot through him. As the doors slid open, he abruptly lifted Dean up, groaning as Dean’s legs locked around him and brought their cocks into firmer contact.

 

He took a few steps, then staggered and turned slightly, to push Dean against the wall while he got a better grip. Thoughts of quickly getting to his apartment flew out of his mind as they kissed again. Dean tasted so damned good, felt so damned right in his arms. It couldn’t be more perfect, it just couldn’t.

 

His cock ached and pulsed with need. Somehow, Sam forced himself to move again, rushing down the hall and banging into the wall once. 

 

It had to stop and Sam was gonna be pissed. Dean groaned and forced himself to let his legs unlock when Sam bumped them into the wall. He broke the kiss and shook his head. “Gotta...gotta stop here, Handsome. Don’t wanna, God, don’t wanna, but the rules are the rules, Sammy,” Dean said, panting hard and grimacing at the tightness of his pants. “Unless you’re paying...well, the night’s over.”

 

Sam had started to tell Dean ‘no,’ but once Dean opened a little space between them, he saw Dean was serious. “After... this....” He took a couple breaths, feeling like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over his head. Too bad the rest of his body felt differently. Still hot, still hard, and still needing contact between them. “You can’t mean...”

 

But he did, Sam could see that, too. He gave a sharp nod. “Right. Business is business,” he said, his tone clipped. “Thanks.” Now that sounded totally fake. He tried again. “For this evening.” It was about all he could get out for the moment, so he quickly fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door.

 

“Sam, I had a real good evening. I really enjoyed the company. I wish...I don’t want it to stop, but since neither of us seems able to compromise--” He wanted one more kiss, dammit. He gripped Sam’s shoulder and turned him so he could take that kiss that set him on fire like none other had. He didn’t press his body against Sam’s, he wasn’t trying to tease him. Sam had said ‘no,’ just like he had. Kissing...kissing they could do, so he’d steal this last kiss of the evening. He didn’t let Sam take control of it. He kept the control, finding that fine line between breathtakingly aggressive and breathtakingly romantic.

 

Finally breaking away from Sam, his breath slowly escaped his lungs. “G’night, Sammy. I’ll see you later. And thanks.”

 

“You have given me more dates with my hand than...” Sam blew out a hot breath, licked his lips and nodded. “Later.” Backing into his apartment, he closed the door, leaned his forehead against it, and groaned. 

 

Dean gave a soft laugh as he shook his head. “Yeah, I know the feeling,” he said and headed into his own apartment, ready to have a date with his own hand, just like he was certain Sam was. He paused only long enough to cross one more day off the calendar.

 

* * * 

 

Allen walked down the hall, reading the numbers on the doors and looking at his watch. He was a little early.

 

Dean stepped out of his place with his favorite to-go coffee mug, wanting to get a fresh cup of java from the coffee joint across the street. Well, and maybe a little pie, too. He practically froze when he saw the damned good looking guy walking down the hall, obviously looking for a specific apartment.

 

“Hey there, need some help?” Dean asked, his gaze drifting over the guy and contemplating digging out a card to give to him. The man was built, brown hair about the same color as Dean’s and gorgeous, brilliant green eyes.

 

Returning the appraising look, Allen shook his head. “I got it,” he nodded to the apartment directly in front of the guy, waiting for him to move out of the way before he knocked. When the guy didn’t move, he jutted his chin toward the door. “Visiting.”

 

“Oh, you know Sam? You know he’s out, that he had to go to Kansas on some sort of emergency, right? Something about his boyfriend. He’s from there, you know, Sam’s boyfriend. Sam rushed out of here and asked me to tell the guy coming to see him about the emergency, and to, you know, apologize for him,” Dean said smoothly. He definitely wasn’t giving this guy his card, but if he could hurry the guy out... “Hey, I’m headed down to the coffee shop. Let me buy you a cup of coffee and they have some awesome pie.” 

 

“He’s got a boyfriend? Are you sure?” Allen frowned. “Must be some mistake, or an ex.” He pulled his phone out and shook his head. “He hasn’t called or texted. He would have, he’s sort of... you know, tightly wound and hates waiting around. He told me so. I’ll just give him a call, and if you’re right, I guess we could...”

 

“Yeah, he’s definitely wound tightly,” Dean agreed, wishing the guy would start heading toward the elevator. “Don’t bother calling, his phone’s broken. Battery won’t charge or something. And hey, I’m not hitting on you, not trying to steal Sammy’s thunder. Just, you know, figure it’s the least I could do. You need me to call you a cab or anything? I’ll be happy to cover it,” Dean said, easing forward, trying to get the guy to turn around and head back for the elevators.

 

“Ah...” Allen took a step back, but started to scroll through his contacts. “I’ll just check, if you don’t mind. I don’t want him pissed...”

 

Hearing the voices, Sam opened the door and quickly grasped what was going on, even before Allen looked at Dean and spoke in an accusatory tone.

 

“I thought you said he was out?”

 

Sam crossed his arms and glared at Dean for a long moment. “C’mon in Al. Never mind Dean, he _thinks_ he’s being funny.”

 

Giving Dean another look, Allen walked inside the apartment. “Dinner smells great.”

 

Sam pointed at Dean and whispered loudly. “Stop cock-blocking me.” Giving him another dark look, he retreated into his apartment. He was going to get some tonight, work some of the frustration out of his system, with someone who was a definite ‘yes.’ As he closed the door, he gritted his teeth at Dean’s response.

 

“He may look like me, but your Dean substitute can’t come close to me or my skills!” Dean called after him, cursing under his breath. He briefly wondered if he could get away with pulling the fire alarm and not get caught.

 

For the first time that he could _ever_ remember, he didn’t feel much like getting any pie...

 

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

It was late at night and Sam had gotten tired of working in his apartment, so he’d taken his laptop with him to the coffee shop across the street. As he sipped on his coffee and occasionally took a bite of his zucchini bread, he worked on finalizing his brief so it could be filed with the court in the morning. 

 

Dean walked in, greeting the guy behind the counter and getting his coffee and pie like he did most Thursday nights. He always took Thursday nights off to get ready for the weekend. He had already gone and worked out and eaten some pizza. Next on his to-do list was the movies he had primed to watch, after he got his coffee and dessert.

 

Standing at the counter, he glanced around the place, always on the lookout for his next client. He was startled to see Sam up this late on a work night. Ever since the effort he had made to shoo away Sam’s date, Sam had kinda been snubbing him. Not one to take a hint, or least always one to ignore it unless it was backed up with a .45, Dean walked over to Sam’s table, pulled out a chair, spun it around so he was straddling it, and sat down.

 

“You’re up late, Handsome.” 

 

Sam forced himself not to look up, though he was sharply aware of Dean and of the way he was sitting. “Working,” he said, typing away on the keyboard. 

 

“Still pissed at me, huh?”

 

“What do you think?” Sam asked. It was no use, he couldn’t concentrate like this. Looking up, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “How would you like it if I interfered with every one of your dates?” he demanded. Damn... he’d missed him. He was pissed at him, but he’d missed him like hell, and it had only been a few days.

 

“Just trying to make sure you stay single for a little while longer,” Dean said, looking only slightly guilty. “Yeah about eight months, six days, seventeen hours and forty-three minutes. Or thereabouts,” he added practically under his breath. “Look I’m sorry...ah, you know, sorta,” he added almost sheepishly.

 

Sam made a face at Dean’s nonsensical answer. “Sorta? You’re sorta sorry.” He huffed, looking away for a moment, before turning back. “You go on, what... several _dates_ a night. Why the hell should it bother you if I’m seeing people a couple nights a week, if that? Don’t answer that, because it shouldn’t. Unless you’re a big hypocrite. Are you, Dean?” he asked, completely and inexplicably unable to maintain either his anger or his distance from this man.

 

“We’re going on dates for different reasons, Sam. Unless you’ve been holding out on me. Not like there’s any danger of me having any sort of permanent relationship with my _clients._ ” He gave a slight smile and nod when his coffee and pie were brought over.

 

“Oh, isn’t that convenient. For you.,” Sam said pointedly. “Look, you want to be the only guy in my life... you just gotta say the word and … do it. But you can’t want it, at least not bad enough, since you’re holding out. So we both gotta live with that. And if you eat that pie like you’re making love to your spoon... I _will_ kill you,” he added. 

 

“I don’t have a god-damned choice!” Dean snapped at him. “You do!” Dean sucked in his breath, realizing he was treading too freaking close to saying shit he shouldn’t be saying. “Never mind. You’re right,” Dean said and left his coffee and his pie, pausing only long enough to toss down some cash. “See ya around, Sammy. Maybe.” He was definitely thinking it might be time to relocate.

Stunned, Sam sat there for a long while, playing Dean’s words over and over in his mind. No matter which direction he came at it, they made no sense to him. How could Dean not have a choice? Sex workers had personal lives. Why didn’t Sam fall under his personal life, if Dean really had feeling for him? He had no clue.


	6. Chapter 6

A half hour later, Sam tapped on Dean’s door. When there was no answer, he left the pie and a fresh coffee outside the door, hoping like hell no one would see and complain that this was no hotel. Then he went into his own apartment and texted Dean, letting him know he could have his pie.

 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the situation. It was just so damned weird. If it weren’t so real, he’d swear someone had stuck him in the middle of some sitcom.

 

* * *  
[1 week later]

 

Dean didn’t like hunting so close to where he lived, but when a freaking demon showed up in his little corner of town, what else was he supposed to do? A young guy had been possessed. He was your average Joe in looks and build. He’d been sweet talking young women into things, getting them to take cruel and sometimes deadly actions. Obviously, he had to get this guy alone, get this demon to follow him, follow him right into a devil’s trap where Dean could exorcise the bastard. 

 

He’d spent three days getting everything set up, the devil’s trap, the unlocked doors, a fake 9-1-1 call to keep cops as far away as possible, and the cooperation of a fellow hunter’s daughter who just happened to be the right age and look. All she had to do was pretend to agree to what the demon wanted, Dean would bust in, chase her out and piss off the demon badly enough that the demon would want a piece of him. Demons weren’t particularly hard to rile. The hunter and his daughter would keep others out of the area. Everything was golden

 

It went like clockwork, right by the numbers. The girl, him busting in and stopping her, him pissing off the demon. Finally he went running and the demon came after him at full bore, but Dean was fast on his feet. Always had been. So he easily led the demon down the street and right toward where the trap was nicely set up, out of the sight of the general public.

 

*

 

It was the middle of the day and Sam had decided to take a couple hours to run some errands. He’d just walked out of the department store where he’d bought a red power tie, when his attention was pulled to two figures running towards him. 

 

Dean. 

 

It took him a second to see that some guy was chasing Dean and looked like he wanted to kill him or something. As soon as Dean ran past him, Sam stuck his foot out, tripping the aggressor.

 

“Oops... my bad, sorry about that, are you alright?” he asked, laying it on thick as he put his hand out. From the way the man gripped it, he knew they weren’t about to be friends. He shoved the guy hard, away from himself. “Didn’t mean to do that... everything okay?” he asked, approaching and putting an arm around the guy’s shoulder.

 

It might have looked like a friendly hug to others, but he kept an iron grip, maneuvering the guy in the opposite direction from where Dean had run. “I’m so sorry you have to leave now, but it was really great meeting you. Where did you say your car is?” he asked.

 

Dean heard the commotion and spared a glance in the store window’s reflections of the street. Fuck. Where was the demon? He turned, slowing, his senses on high alert. It finally clicked. Sam. Sam was helping the guy up, was trying to push the guy in the other direction. Of all the freaking goody-two-shoes moves! No, no, no!

 

“Get away from him you idiot!” Dean yelled at Sam, not wanting the demon to realize Dean felt anything for Sam or even knew him.

 

Sam raised his hand. “I got this.” Feeling the guy tense, he pulled his hand from the guy’s shoulder and clamped his large hand on the back of his neck. “Keep moving.”

 

“Do you know what I love about Good Samaritans?” the man hissed. He turned; escaping Sam’s grasp easily, and looked up into Sam’s face, his eyes turning black. “The way their entrails look on the sidewalk.”

 

Sam blinked, but he still saw unnaturally black eyes malevolently staring at him.

 

Dean kicked it into high gear, slamming into Sam, knocking him away from the demon. Reaching into his coat he pulled out his flask and spun the lid off. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio  
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_” Dean began. 

 

The demon jerked at the start of the exorcism and tried to retreat. “Hunter! You’re a fucking hunter!” it hissed at Dean, its eyes black as tar.

 

Slamming the possessed guy against a lamppost, Dean kept throwing sprinkles of holy water into the demon’s face, keeping it distracted. The words rushed out of his mouth.

 

“ _Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.  
Ergo draco maledicte  
et omnis legio diabolica  
adjuramus te.  
Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,  
eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._”

 

Stunned by Dean’s sudden violence, Sam was ready to complain as he straightened, but seeing smoke come off the guy’s face, he reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Acid--”

 

Before he could finish his question, Sam found himself lifted and hurled through the air, his back crashing into the building behind him before he fell to the ground. But he hadn’t seen them move. Either of them.

 

The stranger laughed, his face instantly healed. And then Sam found himself lifted up again, this time to be tossed through a store’s display window and rolling over the broken glass.

 

Dean struggled to hang onto the demon, to distract him from hurting anyone around them. He couldn’t look back to see what the demon had done to Sam, though the sound of breaking glass gave him a pretty good idea.

 

He poured the last of the holy water on the guy and the words erupted from him almost too fast to understand.

 

“ _Vade, Satana, inventor et magister  
omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis.  
Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,  
contremisce et effuge, invocato a  
nobis sancto et terribili nomine,  
quem inferi tremunt.  
Benedictus deus. Gloria patri._ “

 

Dean turned his face as the black smoke of the demon went screaming into the day. He caught the possessed guy’s as the guy collapsed, relieved to see the guy was breathing. 

 

“I gotcha. You’re gonna be okay,” Dean told him soothingly and helped him over to the building to sit down on the sidewalk. Dean’s gaze scanned for Sam. “Sam? Sam! Are you okay?” Dean demanded.

 

“No, I’m not okay... and now you’re making friends with... _it_.” Feeling very dazed and confused, Sam slowly got up and started to brush glass off his body, waving away those who came to help or to gawk. He heard the word ‘police’ a few times and wondered just what his report to the cops would sound like.

 

“The guy had...call it a psychotic break. He’s not dangerous anymore. The whole black eye thing is cured.” Dean looked around. “Someone call an ambulance,” he demanded, cursing under his breath. Too many witnesses. He was going to have to come up with a tale of some sort. He looked around, but there were no obvious cameras to have caught it on video. People were taking pictures and video now, but he didn’t think anyone had gotten the exorcism on tape.

 

He looked at the guy. “Doug, I know, nothing makes much sense. Just tell the cops and hospital the truth. The last thing you remember, and then waking up here, okay? It wasn’t your fault, not any of it, but you do need some help.” He squeezed the dazed guy’s shoulder and then went over to Sam and offered him a hand out of the display window.

 

“You okay? Do you need an ambulance?” he asked Sam. “And now is _not_ the time for questions,” he added quietly, glancing at all the onlookers taking video to post on youtube or their webpage or wherever.

 

Sam ran a hand over his face, pulled out his phone and started searching the web.

 

“Sam? What the hell are you doing? Get out of the window, you look like a bull in a china shop, and talk to me.”

 

His hands were bleeding, but Sam didn’t feel the pain much. He took a few steps, the glass crunching under his feet, but he kept his eyes on the face of his phone. “Trying to find the closest hospital with a psych ward,” he answered evenly.

 

“The ambulance will take the guy to a hospital pretty quickly see he needs help. C’mon, let me get a look at you, make sure you’re okay.” Dean said, gripping his elbow and helping to guide him out of the destroyed display.

 

“Are you kidding me? I just saw... I think I saw.... and-and-and... something picked me up …” He finally looked. “You know what? For all I know, you’re a figment of my imagination. Okay... UCLA’s got one. I’m checking myself in.” He took a deep breath and looked down the street to where his car was parked and started to leave.

 

“Dude, do you _want_ to ruin your life?” Dean asked. “Cuckoo for coco puffs doctors do not get the whole bump in the night crap. They’ll lock you up, give you drugs, and want to study you, and you’ll never get a job again, especially not in the legal field. Dean snagged the car keys from Sam. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

 

The store owner came running after them. “Hey! You can’t leave, the police are coming!”

 

“We’re going to the nearest hospital, tell the cops they can find us there,” Dean told the guy then hurried Sam to the car. Pulling out his phone, he called the hunter who was helping him. “Long story short, I had to exorcise the guy already....yeah, I know, I know...I’ll keep an eye out...right. Yeah, see you. Thanks.”

 

“Exercise.... that’s exercise?” Sam asked, not fighting Dean because he knew, before he checked himself in anywhere, it would be best to get the facts. “Dean, what’s going on?” he asked, making a face at the lack of response and waiting until they were inside the car. “I need you to tell me _what_ I just saw,” he said.

 

Giving a sigh, Dean glanced over at him as he started Sam’s car. “You won’t believe me, and even if you do, trust me when I say, you really don’t want to know.” Seeing the stubborn set of Sam’s jaw he shook his head. “Fine. When I’m not working, I’m doing my _real_ job. I hunt the things that go bump in the night. Vampires. Ghouls. Wendigos. Black dogs. ...Demons. I said ex-or-cise, not ex-er-cise. Like Linda Blair and pea soup. You met up with a demon, Sam. I had it following me to where I could trap it, _then_ exorcise it. Somewhere more private. And that wasn’t acid I was spilling on it, it was holy water.” He reached into his coat and pulled out the flask. “There’s probably a bit left in there if you wanna confirm it’s water.” When Sam didn’t take the flask, he slipped it back into his pocket.

 

He was going to drive Sam home, but the Impala was parked a few blocks away, near the empty house they had planned to use to trap the demon. So he circled around the area. If Sam wanted to see the arsenal, he could show him, though odds were, if he did, he probably ought to pick up and run cause Sam would likely call the cops or the guys with strait jackets for him.

 

“You’re Buffy the vampire slayer?” Sam made a face. “You’re role playing … wait someone’s paying you to play this game?” He looked down at his bleeding hands, then back at Dean. “Your … _partner_ plays too rough, and I still don’t get how you guys threw me through a window, which... totally illegal, and very dangerous... and I should be asking you to pull over...”

 

“No making fun of the Buffster. It’s Hollywood crap, but that show gave me more laughs than Larry the Cable Guy. And Spike. Hot-damn. And no, Sam, I’m not playing Buffy, I’m not role-playing. You know the recent news about all those late teens, early twenties chicks that have been ganking their BFFs and their horny boyfriends and shit? It’ll stop now. That demon was the one behind it. That poor schmoe, Doug Narrows, the meatsuit the demon was wearing, will be spending a lot of his future in psych wards and maybe prison, but he’s free of the demon at least.” Dean looked over at Sam. He could see Sam wasn’t buying it. 

 

“Dude, you don’t believe me, fine. You’re a civilian. Stay a blissfully ignorant and go on believing there aren’t really things that go bump in the night. Sometimes...sometimes I wish I could. I’m not asking you to believe me. Here, here’s a lie you’ll accept that’s about half true. The guy was harassing a friend’s daughter, I intervened, the guy came after me and you...did whatever you did to stop him. The guy punched you hard enough that you fell back into that store window where you must’a hit your head and your mind made up shit to fill in the blanks.” Tilting his head he glanced over at Sam. “Believe whichever tale you want. You got hurt ‘cause you thought you were helping, and I’m sorry. That’s why I really hate to hunt in my own backyard. Too easy to run into people you know and then you have to try to explain shit that they just won’t believe.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His mind was processing everything Dean said, and playing back the unexplainable things he’d seen. Felt. The creepy black eyes. The choking... the being lifted off the ground like he was as light as a feather, only to be tossed through a window. And he’d seen them... he’d seen Dean and that guy, they’d been far away from him, too far to have been the ones throwing him around like a ragdoll. . 

 

He ran a shaky hand over his face. “So. Hooker, slash hunter, slash artist. Is there anything else I should know?” He took a deep breath and looked over at Dean. “So that night, when you were hurt... it was... more of the same.”

 

“That was a ghost. Demons are fairly rare,” Dean said with a shrug. “Anything else you should know? I dunno. Not really a lot to me. Mom was killed by a demon, Dad went after it, that’s how I got caught up in hunting, probably why I never made a real go of it as an artist. Distracted with other things. Besides, I don’t know, artist doesn’t seem all that he-man manly, you know? Though chicks dig artists, guys, they tend to prefer the athletes I think, or maybe that’s just me.” Dean turned down an alley and stopped the car. “That’s my Impala,” he said, pointing to a vehicle under a tarp. “You up to driving yourself to a bar or back home? No psych joint though. You’re not nuts.”

 

“Yeah. I’m … yeah.” Sam gave a nod and reaching for the door handle, opened it and got out. Taking a deep breath, he dug into his pocket for his cell and called the office. “Sarah, I won’t be returning to the office this afternoon,” he told his secretary and then listened as she read off his calendar. “Alright, just reschedule with her for next week, I’m sure she won’t have a problem with that. No, everything’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pressing the end button, he met Dean’s eyes across the roof of his car. Hooker-hunter. No, it made no sense to him. “I’m still wondering whether I’m dreaming this... when I could be dreaming a lot better things up.”

 

Shaking his head, he walked around to the driver’s side, and waited for Dean to move away from the door. The car engine was still running.

 

“You obviously have a hero complex, too,” Dean said, giving Sam a smirk before leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. “Thanks for trying to help.”

 

Sam managed a smile and cocked his head to the side. “Sorry I complicated your operation. Mission?” He didn’t even know. “I’ll ah... yeah. See you,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat and looking up. “Try not to get killed or anything.”

 

“Job. We just call them jobs. I’m back to being a hooker tonight. Gotta pay for that expensive apartment somehow.” He gave Sam a wink then turned and walked to the Impala, carefully rolling up the cover so as not to scratch the finish, pausing only to wave at Sam as he drove off.

 

* * * 

 

Dean hoped the music hadn’t been too loud for any of his neighbors. Considering the alternative of what they would have likely heard, being pissed at the loud music was preferable. It wasn’t that late and it was a Friday night at least.

 

As soon as he and Mark were done, he turned the music down, pulled on some jeans and, after making sure Mark was happy and had something to drink, he escorted him to the door. He laughed when Mark looped the red silk tie around his neck. After giving Mark a final promising kiss, he opened the door to the hallway.

 

Walking down the hall, a big file in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Sam slowed and looked down as some guy came out of Dean’s apartment saying something about Dean being worth every penny. Yeah, he bet he was.

 

No... nope, he wasn’t gonna be jealous over some guy who had to pay for sex. He wasn’t gonna, though when the guy walked past him looking like he was walking on cloud nine, and like someone who could easily pick up dates, it became a little harder to fight off feelings he had no business feeling. 

 

Once the guy was well past him, Sam reached his door and said, “evening” to Dean, who hadn’t gone back inside yet. “Guess we’re both working late.” Balancing his file and briefcase, he started to unlock his door when his head whipped back around to stare at Dean. “Is that _my_ tie?” he demanded. It was the new tie he’d bought, he was pretty damned sure of it.

 

“Hmm?” Dean said, having been busy watching Sam since Mark had gotten on the elevator. He glanced down at the tie hanging around his neck. “Oh, uh, yeah. I couldn’t find my red scarf and Mark sorta has a fetish about this one picture with a guy and a red...” He pulled it off and held it out. “Here. Sorry. You weren’t home to ask and I _really_ needed it.” He ran his other hand through his hair, looking just a bit sheepish.

 

“Wait... How’d you break in?” Looking at the tie Dean offered him, he made a face, a little outraged. “I don’t want it... after... Oh my God.” He huffed and opened the door and set his stuff right inside the door. 

 

Dean began laughing. “Dude, I was wearing it as a blindfold. Nothing else. I swear I didn’t get anything on it. I’ll have it steam cleaned or whatever if you want me to. And I didn’t break in.”

 

“It was in my closet, of course you broke in,” Sam countered, still looking at the tie like it was his enemy. “Keep it. Really.”

 

“No, I didn’t break anything.” Seeing that Sam was pissed at him, Dean draped the tie around his own shoulders. “Okay. I’ll keep it. So let me cook you dinner or take you out to dinner to make up for it.” He gave Sam his best charming smile.

 

That irresistible look. Just when had he turned into such a sucker, Sam wondered, rolling his eyes but relenting. “Lemme change out of this suit. Something light... a salad...” then remembering just who he was talking to, he added, “or a sandwich, that’d be great.”

 

As his gaze slid back to the tie around Dean’s neck, he flashed to the hot kisses they’d shared in the elevator. It felt like it was so long ago, though it had only been a couple weeks.

 

“I got just the thing. Corn on the cob and some tuna salad,” Dean said, beaming, delighted Sam wasn’t as pissed at him as he could be. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just come on in. I’ll get the corn cooking and the sandwiches made.”

 

“Okay.” He started to walk inside, when he turned. “You haven’t _borrowed_ anything else, have you? Shorts...” he waved his hand, “toothbrush...”

 

“And ruin the mystery?” Dean said innocently. “See you in a few.”

 

*

 

Dean shucked and scrubbed the corn, wrapping it in wax paper and tossing it in the microwave. While it was cooking he chopped onion and celery and mixed up his special tuna salad, stirring in some herbs and shredded cheese along with the mayo and a touch of chopped pickles. He glanced over at the dinner table. It was kinda messy, but he could sweep some of that crap into a box or just stack the stuff. The microwave went off but he knew the corn needed to sit and steam for a few more minutes so he tended to the dining room table. He wiped off two spots on the table and quickly got the salt and pepper and butter out along with paper towels as napkins.

 

Knocking lightly, Sam pushed the door open and walked inside. “Been a long day,” he said as he headed toward the dining area. “Had to talk a slum lord client into settling or getting nailed at trial. We’re standing right there, in the middle of one of his apartment complexes and the place is falling apart and he looks me straight in the eye and says he fixes things as soon as they go wrong. Like I’m blind and... and you’re still wearing my tie. Why?” he asked, dragging his gaze away from it.

 

Dean glanced down. “And I’m not wearing any underwear under these jeans. I wanted to get dinner started,” Dean said. “Besides, you gave it to me. It’s my tie now. Lemonade or Ice Tea?”

 

“You’re not...” Stupidly, Sam started to repeat Dean’s comment, his gaze dropping to find the clear outline of his cock in his pants before he dragged his eyes up. “You’re pure evil, you know that?” he asked. “Ah... you got anything harder than that? The lemonade, I mean,” he said, heat stealing up his neck. 

 

“I can always make something harder. How about a maitai?” Dean asked smooth as silk then added more seriously. “Beer? And you haven’t seen me be evil until you’ve seen me giving head.”

 

“Beer. And I’ve seen you do that,” Sam forced out almost casually, despite feeling like something had just sucked the breath out of him. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

 

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. “I’m not going to go there. Want me to pour the beer into glasses? I’ll give yours a good head,” he said as he retrieved some bottles out of the fridge. “And no, I got this.”

 

“Someone’s in a dangerous mood.” Sam shook his head and followed Dean into the kitchen. “Bottle’s fine. Really.” His gaze slid over Dean’s firm ass before the guy turned, and knowing he’d been caught, Sam gave a dimpled smile and reached for his drink. “I’d ask about your day if I wasn’t afraid of getting it in excruciating detail, which could also prove dangerous.”

 

“I could lie and give you tentacle porn instead.” He grinned at Sam. “Same old, same old. Decent day. Though really, the night’s just getting started and I’m actually not working tonight. I was supposed to be an escort to a party and the guy came down with the flu. Thankfully, I already got paid. Wanna catch a movie?” Dean asked as he shooed Sam around the counter to the dining room table. He pulled the corn out onto plates and stripped off the wax paper, then put the sandwiches on the plates. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled off the tie and left it laying on the counter then picked up the plates and brought them out to the table.

 

“That’s a Winchester special tuna salad recipe. Been in the family at least five years, stolen from a magazine. So tell me more about your day,” Dean said as he set the plates on the table and slid into his chair. He didn’t hesitate and immediately took a big bite out of the sandwich.

 

Sam laughed at Dean’s joke and sat down. “I really should work...” he said, already knowing he’d blow it off and catch up tomorrow. “But a movie sounds good.” He grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, nodding with approval at the taste.

 

“Hey, how often can we spend a Friday night together?” Dean lifted his beer as if in toast and took a long drink from it. “You can pick the movie, but I’ve got veto rights. No chick-flick shit. Unless it’s coming from you, making a proposal to me.”

 

“You mean proposition,” Sam corrected, swallowing. “This is good. Real good.” Grabbing his own beer, he washed the sandwich down with it. 

 

“You could propose we do something. But proposition is good too,” Dean said with a wink.

 

“Uh huh.” He could come up with a lot of propositions, but they both knew Dean would stop them before the end game. “I propose you stuff your mouth and stop making my mind _go there_.” Lifting his corn up as if to make a point, Sam bit into it. 

 

Dean grinned. “Alright. For now.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was late. Past midnight, when Sam heard Dean’s door open. Heading for his door, he looked out the peephole and saw Dean definitely wasn’t dressed to meet clients. Sam had come to learn that when he wore that brown leather jacket and carried a duffel bag, it meant he had other business to deal with.

Over the past weeks, he’d learned a little more about what Dean did. The things he fought... put down. The people he saved. Sam wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity or something more, but he knew he wanted in, and he’d been waiting for just this opportunity.

Tugging his door open, he grabbed his own bag, and caught up to Dean who’d turned to see who was chasing him.

“Hey. So what are we after?” Sam casually asked, ignoring the questioning look in Dean’s eyes. “Vampires? Demons.... ghosts! Whatever it is, I’m ready,” he said. “You’re not the only one who might have inherited a ‘danger gene,’” he added.

Dean stopped and stared at Sam then shook his head. “Go home, Sam. It’s not amateur night. It’s a twenty hour drive, then finding the leucrotta and killing it. The leucrotta could look like anyone. A kid, a grandmother, a hot ass hooker,” he paused, giving Sam a look, “and I can’t have any distractions. They’re mean bastards. I could be gone a week. What would you tell your work? That you’re off playing Buffy the Vampire Slayer with your prostitute neighbor?”

Sam’s gaze flicked to Dean’s duffel bag, then he met his eyes. “Weapons and clothes... for a week?” he asked, thinking Dean was trying to put him off. “I may have lost my cool the last time... but it’s because I had no clue what was going on. I can hold my own in a fight,” he added, not flinching away from Dean’s look. “Everyone starts somewhere... you said yourself that lots of hunters were insurance salesmen, cashiers... all walks of life.”

“Sam, why would you want this life? I’m only in one place right now because...long story. It’s a rotten way to live. Always wondering what’s out there in the dark, because now you know you should be afraid of the dark and what’s in it. You’re still a civilian, you still think it’s a fun adventure. It’s hard work, you don’t get paid, you don’t get thanked, and dude, I can’t tell you how many laws I’ve broken through the years. You’re a lawyer for Chrissakes. Do you really want to walk down this road? Once your eyes are opened, you’re fucked. There’s no going back.” Dean wasn’t going to tell him ‘no’ but he really didn’t think Sam got it, not in his gut. “I don’t want to be the reason you ruin your life. If you’re doing this to be with me, Sammy, you don’t have to. Every time I’ve got an evening free, Dude, it’s yours, I promise you that.”

“My eyes are already opened, there’s no unringing that bell,” Sam pointed out. “And I’m not the sort of guy who can stick his head in the sand and pretend it didn’t happen... that bad things aren’t out there... that they’re not destroying lives. You think I’m in it for the fun.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe a little... I mean, I’m an adrenalin junkie, I’ll give you that. But I’m not going into it blind. What do you think I’ve been doing since that day? Research. Lots of it. Have something right here for you, in fact,” he said, lifting his bag and pulling out a manila folder filled with printouts, newspaper clippings and notes covered with his own neat handwriting. “Possible ‘jobs.’” He gave a nod. “I’m not under the misapprehension that it’s all fun and games. I’ve seen you bleed. I’ve bled. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. But I also went to see Mr. Narrows at the hospital. I arranged to get him the best legal representation possible to see if there’s any way to make it as easy for him as it can be. I have a nice place, a good job, and plenty of money. But I’m not all about money,” he gave a snort, “though it seems I can’t convince you of that.”

Dean gripped the collar of Sam’s coat. “I know it’s not all about money for you. Did I say anything about money in my argument for you to keep to your civilian life? No.” He looked down at the duffel Sam had and gave a small laugh. “Leave it to a lawyer to learn there’s deadly things out in the dark and he does research instead of joining a firing range and learning to shoot guns and crossbows.”

“Very funny.” Sam pulled away, and bent down to unzip his duffel bag, then looked up. “I may not know how to shoot a gun, other than theoretically, but I know damned well how to use a crossbow. Deer hunting,” he explained, before Dean asked. “Iron dipped arrows,” he lifted some up, “salt filled,” he showed those to Dean as well, “and a lot of other goodies that this lawyer researched and improved on.”

He stood up. “Oh, I didn’t just research. I did...” he waved his hand, “some reconnaissance too. There’s a building with a definite ghost problem. I tipped off your hunter pal, Bobby, cause you weren’t around. But, if you don’t want to train a newby... I get it, it’s cool. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Bobby? How do you know about Bobby? You broke into my apartment?” Dean demanded.

“Break into your apartment? I’d never do that. No more than you’d break into mine to steal a tie,” he said, giving Dean his most innocent look. “But I have to say, you still don’t have the shade of my teeth right in the painting you’re working on.” He could see the frustration in Dean’s eyes and he put his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “I’ll keep a low profile and do what you say. If it turns out to be too dangerous and you want me to leave, I will. I’ll take my car so that I can leave, and I do need to be back for a hearing on Wednesday so...”

“Bullshit. If you’re joining me, then you’re keeping me company on the road. If you gotta come back early, you can fly home. And your teeth in the painting are fine, Mr. Perfection. You’re paying for gas, and don’t even think you’ll get to drive Baby.” Dean headed toward the elevator. “Well, c’mon, you can read to me all your research while I’m driving.” Under his breath he added, “I gotta be freaking nuts.”

“Really? Really?” Giving a wide grin, Sam grabbed his bag and practically ran after him. “I’ve got this iron whip... maybe I’ll let you borrow it. It’s got eight segments and...” As the elevator door closed, he noticed Dean rolling his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from going on and on.

* * *

Sam had flown back before Dean, then waited anxiously for him for a couple days. Dean had phoned him to say he was pulling into the parking lot, and though it was the wee hours of the night, Sam had gone down to the garage to meet him and help bring his stuff up.

Course they’d both dropped all of Dean’s stuff on the ground and made out like crazy on the elevator ride up. If Sam had hoped that things had changed and Dean would budge about the whole paying for sex business, he’d been sorely disappointed. They’d parted at their doors, each accusing the other of being a “stubborn ass.”

Over the next few weeks, they’d done coffee, and dinner, and even gone to the movies. Each time they were together, Sam had a date with his hand afterwards. He’d also gone on a couple of small hunts with Dean, and if anyone proved to be a distraction, it was Dean, not Sam. At least that’s why Sam claimed to have earned himself a bruised cheek.

Everything was as good as it could be for a couple of guys hot for each other but going out on non-dates. Then Sam found himself in the elevator with Dean and a client of Dean’s. Suddenly, Dean barely noticed him and lavished all of his attention on his paying client.

As he watched them together, Sam had the childish urge to interfere with the pair. Only the knowledge that anything he did wouldn’t change a thing, that those two would go into Dean’s apartment and have a good time while he was left outside, prevented him from doing anything stupid.

Course seeing the guy walk down the hall right behind Dean, pressing his front to Dean’s back and putting his arms around Dean’s waist had Sam both hot and jealous. When he got into his own apartment, he called up Allen. Dean was right, the guy was a substitute, and Sam hated that fact, but he couldn’t stop himself from making the call.

* * *

Sam was in the garage loading up his car when he saw Dean’s car pull in. He went to his bike rack and freed his bike, then lifted it up to put on the car rack. It was a long weekend and he’d taken a couple extra days off for rest and relaxation. Well, mostly, since he was taking some work with him.

For weeks, he’d been wanting to ask Dean to come with him. But even as he heard Dean slam his car door shut, he knew it wasn’t something that was in the cards. Dean could be flexible on some things, but he wasn’t about to give up sex for free, and that was what he’d think Sam wanted.

Dean was tired and was honestly thinking of canceling his appointments for tonight and see if Sam just wanted to watch a couple movies, drink beer and eat pizza. But when he saw Sam’s bike on the car’s bike rack, he cursed to himself. He wanted to just storm past Sam and go on up to his apartment and sulk, but it wasn’t Sam’s fault he could go away for the weekend and Dean was stuck working. Dean could be social and at least find out where Sam was going...and make certain no one else was going with him...

“Heya Sam. Going on vacation?” Dean asked as he approached him.

“Hey.” Sam wiped his hand on his jeans and had eyes only for Dean from that moment on. “Remember I told you I have a small place, a cabin, out in Julian? I’m going down there for a couple days. Five, mostly non-work days,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, I remember, you showed me some pictures. You ought to do some fishing and bring me back a big ass trout or bass or something. So are you...joining up with some of your biking buddies? Or...Allen or anyone?” Dean asked, trying to keep the jealousy off his face and out of his voice.

Sam searched Dean’s face, wondering whether he should ask. In the end, he made a joke of it. “Well, actually, I was going to ask my hot neighbor but he’s probably extra busy, this being a long weekend. The outdoors, barbeques and maybe some videos probably can’t compete with his plans.”

Bending over, Sam picked up his bags, and opened the car door and tossed them into the back. He turned around, “but if... ah... you find some free time, you’re welcome to come up for the day, or whatever. I have a guest bedroom and I’m not... you know... it’s not an advantage taking offer.”

“Guest bedroom...” Dean said then slowly shook his head. “Probably not a good idea, even with the guest bedroom. We’ll just end up calling each other stubborn asses and get more stressed. Yeah, you’re right about being busy this weekend.” Dean closed the distance between them and turned Sam to face him. Slipping his hands around Sam’s waist, he leaned in and kissed him, giving him the sort of kiss he’d been imagining all day. When it was finally over, he looked into Sam’s eyes. “I appreciate the offer and maybe next time, I can come with you. I’d really like to fish in that lake of yours.”

Sam gave a soft laugh. “Clearly not badly enough. But maybe... someday,” he gave a nod, unwilling or unable to give up his hope. Not when they were so compatible in every way.

As Dean stepped away, Sam grabbed his shirt and stopped him. “If you change your mind, call me.” Giving Dean a look, he stepped forward and pulled Dean into his arms, kissing him just like he wanted, just like Dean was his... and only his. Whether he had a right to wish his clients away or not.

“Mmm, keep that up and I’m really gonna wish I could join you. You get bored, you know, text me or call me.” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s ass. “Damn, I bet I could bounce a quarter off that ass of yours.” He gave Sam a finally quick kiss. “Drive safe. No hunting by yourself.”

“Yeah.” Sam let out a hot breath and put a little distance between them. “Julian’s an old mining town. Not like there are gonna be a lot of old ghosts hanging around waiting for me...” Flashing Dean a mischievous smile, he headed for the driver’s side of the car. “I’ll... I’ll be thinking about you,” he said, before pulling the door open and getting inside.

“Ditto,” Dean said, completely serious, thinking he might just cancel his appointments tonight anyhow. He gave a wave and watched Sam’s charger head out of the garage.

* * *

One night later Sam was in the local bar of the small town, playing darts, when he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Hoping like hell it wasn’t some work emergency, he relaxed slightly when Dean’s name popped up on the screen.

He’d been thinking about him. A lot. Maybe Dean had been thinking a little about him as well?

Pressing the button, he spoke. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?” There was a definite smile in his voice.

“Just wanted to let you know I snagged the last of your coffee,” Dean said, waiting for that stunned silence from Sam then he began laughing. “I’m teasing, Dude. I was just...wishing I was there, you know, hanging out with you. Are the fish biting?”

“For a moment I believed you. But.... you know, I did put in extra locks,” Sam said, laughing.

“I know you did. They won’t slow me down if I need coffee, though. Nothing stops this Winchester on his coffee quests,” Dean said.

“Just keep your hands off my ties. And shorts... especially my shorts.” Sam shook his head, knowing he was just encouraging Dean. “No, seriously,” he added even as Dean moved on. “Haven’t gone fishing.”

“There is no excuse not to go fishing on that serene pond or lake or whatever it is that you’ve got there. That’s the sort of intelligence any good hunter should have. I’m taking away your hunter’s license,” Dean said, his voice light and teasing.

Sam laughed. “I just got here yesterday, give me some time. Weather’s beautiful. I’m torn between going on a hike or biking tomorrow.” A bunch of guys yelled all at once, and Sam moved slightly away. “Playing darts. You’d approve... it’s like aim-training.”

“That’s easy. Get up really early...and go fishing instead,” Dean said. “If the fishing’s good enough, I might just have to cancel some appointments and come to Julian instead. So what are you gonna do first thing in the morning?”

“Dude... I’m on vacation, I’m sleeping in. Then, I dunno, breakfast in bed or, more likely on the patio. Anyway--”

“Go Allen!”

Someone yelled too close to Sam’s ear. “Hold on Dean, I gotta move,” he said, glaring at the dart players and moving to the far side of the bar. “Sorry ‘bout that. I forgot what I was saying...”

Dean sat up sharply, spilling his bottle of beer in the process. “You were...talking about breakfast in bed with Allen,” Dean said, grinding his teeth as he got up to find a towel to clean up the spilled beer. So much for any serious consideration of ever going up to Sam’s cabin.

“Huh? What?” Sam literally pulled the phone from his ear, looked at it, and put it back against his ear. “If that’s a joke, I don’t get it. Anyway, what I was saying is that I don’t believe you, about coming down.” Hope. Hope like hell, yeah. But he didn’t think it would happen.

“I’m not deaf, Sam. I heard someone right next to you cheering Allen on in whatever the two of you are doing. And that’s pretty harsh, trying to get me to come visit when you’ve already got company, especially him.”

“Wait, are you jealous?” Sam’s face was etched with disbelief. “Allen’s not here. At least not my Allen. Well, I don’t mean ‘my Allen’.... well, you know what I mean. The guy they’re yelling for is a local.” And why the hell was he getting so tangled up with his explanation? Because it gave him a little hope?

Dean was silent for a moment and when he could bring himself to answer, his words were almost gnashed. “Yeah, all right? I’m jealous as hell when you’re with another guy, but I try to keep my mouth shut. Unless I manage to, you know, chase them off. It’s not fair to you and I know it, so I know I’ve got no right to freaking be jealous. You’re not mine, and you can’t be mine. But it doesn’t change it pisses me the hell off.”

Sam was silent for a moment, processing what Dean told him. He’d mostly thought Dean interfered with his dates to be funny or get his kicks. Whenever he’d considered jealousy, he’d put it down more to wishful thinking than anything else. “You know... you don’t have anything to be jealous of. You were right... about why I see him,” Sam admitted, though it was something he probably should have kept buried. When there was no response, he let out a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I get jealous all the time. I mean, when one of your... your friends is around and you start seeing right through me. And dude, I have a lot more to be jealous of.”

“I completely ignore you partially ‘cause it’s the job and partially because I’m wishing it was you I was giving all my attention to. Sam, I’m not gonna deny I...I kinda like my job, but it’s just a job. That’s just the deal I’m stuck with right now, and none of them mean a damned thing to me, so you don’t need to be jealous. But until things change...well, you know what they say. All things change. This deal won’t last forever,” Dean said, but felt almost giddy with the news Sam was jealous all the time. He decided it was probably a good thing Sam was a few hours away or he’d be jumping Sam...at least until the Trickster showed up to remind him of his damned deal.

“Dean... are you... are you addicted to sex?” Sam asked. Every time he tried to figure out Dean’s cryptic comments about being stuck with what he was doing, he got nowhere. Maybe Dean was embarrassed to talk about it.

Breaking into laughter, Dean almost spilled his beer again. “I think some people have wondered that,” he said, still chuckling. “But, ah, no, I’m not addicted to it. I’m just very very good at it and like I said, I kinda enjoy my job probably too much most days.”

“Great,” Sam huffed. And no, he wasn’t going to ask about Dean’s ‘favorite’ clients, but he would likely worry it about it later. “Anyway... if you were, I could probably keep up,” Sam said. “Competitive gene, and all, you know?”

Wincing, Dean realized he probably shouldn’t have said that to Sam. “Maybe someday we’ll get to test your endurance, but you’ll have to prove you can keep up.”

“I can climb a skyscraper in under thirteen minutes, I got endurance,” Sam countered. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find out for yourself, sometime.” He signaled the bartender for a drink. “So... plans tomorrow? I mean, hunting-wise,” he clarified.

“Naw. Gotta pay the bills. It’s a holiday weekend so there’s...well, you know. Plenty of work. How long are you gonna be at that cabin of yours?” Dean asked, finishing off his beer and grabbing a fresh one, arguing to himself that half of the first one he’d spilled.

Grabbing the bottle the bartender placed in front of him, Sam took a long drink. “Until the end of the week, probably Thursday. Might drive in to San Diego one evening, if the quiet here gets to me.”

“Quiet is what you’re supposed to have on vacation,” Dean said. After a moment of silence between them, Dean took a breath and finally spit out the whole reason for his call. “You know, maybe I could come visit Tuesday. If the offer’s still good? Probably just for the day. You can show me your little cabin on the lake. And the town, of course. You said one of those little diners there have killer cheeseburgers, didn’t you?”

“Course it’s still open,” Sam said with a broad grin. “The address and directions are in the drawer of my nightstand. Kidding, don’t break into my place,” he laughed. “I’ll text it to you. Oh... we do have killer burgers, but I can also fire up the barbeque and grill up steaks. Unless you’d rather have some grilled mushroom burgers, I can do that, too...”

“Shrooms go on burgers, they aren’t burgers, that’s just sacrilege. No promises, okay? Have to see how the weekend goes. Is it okay if I let you know Monday?” Dean said, suddenly feeling a rush go through him at the idea of seeing Sam and that was just stupid. He saw Sam practically every day usually.

“Sure. Tell ya what, I’ll leave the keys under the door matt if I step out. You can call me when you get here, I mean if you come. I can get back to the cabin quickly from pretty much anywhere around here.” He licked his lips, knowing Dean had left himself ‘wiggle room,’ which meant he was undecided. “No pressure, but I hope you come. I mean... You know what I mean,” Sam said, waving his hand.

“Yeah, that works,” Dean said. “I just wanted to give you plenty of warning to shoo Allen out of your cabin,” he said teasingly. “‘Cause I’d hate to get there and mistake him for a ghost or demon that needed ganking or something.”

“Ah... alright, I appreciate that.” He rolled his eyes, but he could see Dean’s point. “Hold on.” Lifting his phone up, he took a picture of the people playing darts, and quickly sent it to Dean by text. “Guy on the far right... that’s Allen. Totally not age-appropriate.”

Dean looked at the picture then put the phone back to his ear. “Dude, what is it with you and old geezers? You’re beginning to worry me.”

“I just need to meet a younger, hotter guy. You know anyone like that who’d be interested in a lawyer-slash-hunter?” One thing Dean easily did was make him get all silly and light-hearted.

“Not a clue. I’ll see you Tuesday. Mr Lawyerman-Hunter. And steaks on the grill sound freaking awesome,” Dean said, deciding he was going to go, dammit, because he hadn’t had a vacation since the Trickster, and even if it was just for the day, it sounded like a great time.

“Is that a firm yes?” Closing his fist, Sam raised it up in the air. “Great.” Slipping his phone into his pocket, Sam got up with his beer in his hand. As he headed back to the dart game, a victorious smile plastered on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean managed to end ‘work’ early on Monday night and was asleep by three. He was up at seven, shaved, and hit the road, grabbing coffee and donuts on the way. A little after eleven he pulled into the cabin’s gravel drive.

Pocketing his keys, he strode up to the cabin and knocked, looking forward to seeing Sam.

It was ridiculous. Just the sound of the vehicle entering the drive had Sam’s heart racing. It was just a visit. They were just gonna hang out, Sam told himself sternly. And yet, when he opened the door, he found that a tame ‘hello’ wouldn’t cut it. He closed one arm around Dean’s waist and lowered his mouth over Dean’s, kissing him gently, but thoroughly, before releasing him. “Taste like sugar,” he said, almost too low to be heard.

“It’s the donuts,” Dean said, blowing his breath out. He wanted to push Sam back into the cabin, up against a wall, and kiss the hell out of him. If he did that, there was no way he’d be able to stop...well, he would, because he had to, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sam. But he did want another kiss.

“You taste like orange sherbet,” Dean said, stepping forward, forcing Sam to step back then wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist and tugged them together. “Wanna try that again? I don’t break.”

“Orange shake...” As their bodies collided, Sam’s eyes went dark with heat. “I know you don’t,” he answered, gripping Dean’s hips. “It’s not you I’m worrying about,” he said seriously before bringing his mouth down over Dean’s again, this time kissing him hard, his tongue battling Dean’s, his body pressing against him, one hand roving over Dean’s ass, pulling him closer so he could feel every hard plane of Dean’s body against his own.

Dean kissed him back with everything he had in him, wanting nothing more than to set aside his deal and give everything to Sam and Sam alone. Even if he couldn’t do that, he let himself imagine it, that Sam was his and he was Sam’s. It was as true as it could be, all things considered.

Reluctantly Dean finally broke the kiss. “Better stop there before we’re both sporting woodies,” he panted, his hands slowly drifting over Sam’s body. “You been having a good vacation?” he asked, not meeting Sam’s gaze, knowing what he’d see. They were just going to hang out. Dean might try some fishing come dusk, before heading home. Just hang out, nothing more, he told himself firmly.

Sam’s body didn’t want to stop. His brain didn’t want to stop. His heart definitely didn’t want to stop. He clamped down on all of his questions. All the ‘whys’ he wanted to ask. That never got him anywhere with Dean, anywhere but a mild argument and sometimes a quick exit by one of them.

Reluctantly, Sam stepped away, and gave a nod. “So far I only had to call the office twice and did just a couple hours of work. I call that a fun vacation. You wanna see the rest of the place?”

“Dude, you’re missing the concept of vacation. Gimme your phone. It’s getting turned off while I’m here. They can freaking survive twelve hours without you and you’re mine for the rest of the day. And I’d love to see the rest of...” his gaze drifted down Sam’s body before coming back to his face, “your cabin. Yeah.”

“You’re a terrible tease.” Taking a few steps, Sam swept his hand around to indicate the comfortable living room, with a fireplace, and some antiques displayed on shelving. “Looks pretty rustic, huh?” Bending over, Sam grabbed the remote off the coffee table and pressed a button. What had seemed like a painting of a hunting scene slid to one side to reveal a large flatscreen TV. A few other pictures moved, revealing the surround sound. “Once you’ve watched an action movie here, nothing’s ever as good.”

Dean had to keep himself rooted in place when Sam bent over, his eyes glued on his ass and only shifting to the flatscreen when he realized Sam was talking to him. “Rustic. Yeah, except for those,” he said, not having a clue what Sam had said after rustic.

“Not impressed? You’re a hard audience,” Sam shook his head and headed for the bright, sunny kitchen. “This is where all the cooking gets done. That’s an authentic table from the 1800s,” he said, then continued the tour.

He showed Dean the guest room, which was also set up as a full office. “Your room, if you want it.” He grinned, and couldn’t help imagining Dean sleeping there, then saying ‘fuck it’ and joining him in his own room.

Pulling his gaze away, he walked into his bedroom. It was large and had sliding french windows that opened up onto the deck and had a mountain view. “Barbeque pit is out to the side, close to the kitchen. Come see the bathroom,” Sam grinned. “One way windows.”

“So you like to be a secret exhibitionist?” Dean said following Sam into the bathroom. He saw teeth whitening strips sitting on the counter beside the toothbrush. “You’re joking. You have blindingly white teeth already,” he said picking up the box and shaking it at him before setting it back down on the counter.

“Not according to your painting,” Sam pointed out. “So... end of tour. What do you want to do? Hiking, fishing, walk around the town? We could grab some burgers.”

“C’mon, it’s a painting and you have inhumanly white teeth. If I painted them that way no one would believe it....Wait, are you whitening your teeth because of my painting?” Dean began chuckling. “All right I’ll paint them glow-in-the-dark white.”

After pausing to admire the view out the windows for a moment, Dean’s stomach growled. Glancing at Sam he shrugged. “Apparently, I vote for some burgers.”

“Yeah... I figured we’d better take care of your stomach first, I know you well.” Sam headed out the door. “We can get fishing equipment at the lake,” he said, figuring that would be Dean’s choice. He grabbed his keys and strode to the door, before turning back. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Glad I’m here. Fishing after dinner I think. First, I brought a surprise.” Dean followed Sam out of the cabin and walked to the Impala and opened the trunk. He pulled out a used mountain bike. “I wanted to see what all the fuss is you make about mountain biking, so I picked this up from a pawn shop to give it a try.”

“Seriously?” Sam found himself grinning like an idiot. “You do know how to ride,” he asked, grabbing the bike and pulling out of the trunk. He bent down and inspected the tires. “Not bad. We’ll pump ‘em in town.”

“You kidding? Of course I know how to ride a bike! The things I used to do on a bike would make your toes curl. But I haven’t been on one in probably ten years so go easy on me.” Dean grinned. “Ooo, pump me baby.”

“Keep talking like that, Hero.” Handing the bike over, he headed into his garage and walked his bike out. “We could get you some nice, cushy padding to protect your...”

“My what? My nice firm ass?” Dean challenged. “Bite me. But if I break anything, you’re being my nurse.”

“You like biting, huh? Kinky.” Sam straddled his bike, and put on his sun glasses. “If you get numb, I’ll be glad to massage your firm ass until it feels better.” Grinning, Sam started to pedal away slowly, heading out onto the street.

“Another handful of months and I’ll show you kinky,” Dean murmured under his breath. “My ass is already feeling numb I think,” Dean said, grinning at him as he got on the bike. After a couple of wobbly feet, he began to get a feel for the bike and pedaled to catch up with Sam. “No more than like ten miles. I do gotta walk tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll break and enjoy the views. We can check out the old mines Julian is famous for,” he suggested. “Alright... you’re doing just fine, you get a bike driving license.”

Dean popped a wheelie. “Cool. You can practice your forgery skills. So where’s this hamburger joint? Pretty soon my stomach is going to be gnawing on my backbone.”

“Dean, I’m not interested in forging. I’ll leave that up to you. I could lose my license,” he pointed out. “I’ll practice my shooting. And the diner....” he pointed at the town that was a couple miles away.

Dean chuckled. “You just don’t admit to being the one who forged it. Besides, uh correct me if I’m being a total country boy, but there ain’t no such thing as a bike driving license.” He looked at the distant town. “You want me to ride there and back and go on the trails with you? What part of haven’t been on a bike in years did you miss?”

“What happened to your hunter’s stamina? Come on, don’t be a wuss.” Refusing to give Dean a break when they’d only just started, Sam pedaled harder. “Think of that thick, juicy burger as the prize,” he called out.

“Think of the massage Sam is gonna have to give my aching body tonight before I drive home,” Dean muttered and began to pedal faster. “I’m not a wuss, bitch.”

“Yes you are, jerk.” As soon as Dean caught up, Sam kept pace with him, occasionally looking over at him. He couldn’t shake the thought that this was a guy he could commit to.

* * *

It had been a perfect day from Sam’s perspective. Dean had approved of his choice in burgers, even saying he just might have to find reasons to drive through Julian more often just to get a burger. Then they’d gone on a long but leisurely bike ride, first touring the old fashioned town and then taking a bike trail through the mountains, with plenty of views of the lake. Although they’d stopped at the mines, they didn’t go inside.

After that, they’d gone to the lake, rented some fishing gear, beach chairs and an umbrella. Sometimes they sat quietly, lost in their thoughts. Other times, they argued heatedly over minor things, silly things, sometimes even things neither of them cared about. They laughed, and verbally sparred, and sometimes they allowed each other to get a glimpse of what was in their hearts.

It was early evening when they got back to the cabin. They’d taken quick showers to get rid of the day’s sweat and grime. Sam had already marinated the steaks, and together they made some salad and covered the potatoes in foil. Then they barbequed the steak and the potatoes, with Dean keeping the beer coming.

They’d eaten outside, under the stars. Then, as they’d washed up and Sam realized his perfect day was coming to an end, he turned to look over at Dean. “You know, you could come down again in a couple days, if you  
have the time.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dean gave a slight nod. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. It was...it was a real good day. And that burger joint had about five other burgers I want to try.” Handing Sam the last dish to dry and put away, he dried his own hands. He’d planned to leave about eight but had been enjoying himself too much. He’d cancelled all his appointments because he’d decided he was going to take a whole twenty-four hours of vacation, so there really wasn’t any rush to return to the city. “I could stay for a movie. I mean, it’s not that late and by the time it’ll be over it probably won’t even be midnight. If you want me out of here so you can crash or whatever, I get that and no hard feelings.”

“Dean, do I look like I want you out of here?” Sam asked, locking gazes with him for one intense moment. Then he put the towel down and gave an easy grin. “Besides, watching a big loud movie on a big damned screen is not as much fun alone.”

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head at Sam’s question but felt a little awkward and self-conscious. He smiled some at the big loud movie part. “No, it isn’t. You pick the movie. Anything but chick-flick shit and educational crap.” He wanted to kiss Sam, but knew he shouldn’t. It was time to just sit down on the couch with a beer, enjoy a good movie and the company of Sam. Which he knew he was enjoying too damned much for his own good.

“I get to control the TV.... big honor,” Sam gave a nod and moved into the living room. Within minutes, he had the system on, an on demand movie selected, and he’d pushed the coffee table to one side. After Dean was comfortably seated on the sofa, he brought fresh beers for them, then dropped down onto the floor, laying on his stomach in front of the TV “Ready?” He flicked the remote twice, once to shut off the lights in the house so that the low fire was the only light source other than the TV, then again to get the movie started.

“You’re going to get a crick in your neck, Gigantor. This couch is big enough for two,” Dean teased, lightly kicking Sam’s leg. “Besides, I can’t make fun of the movie you chose if you’re down there. Or steal your popcorn or any other movie munchies. So get up here.”

Sam laughed. “This is how I usually watch. Come join me, and I promise to get munchies in a little bit.”

Giving a long suffering sigh, Dean relocated to the floor. “I’m not going to be able to get up when my legs realize they don’t have to pedal a bike anymore and get all sore on me. And what sort of munchies are you going to tempt me with?”

“If your legs are sore... I did promise to massage you wherever it hurts,” Sam reminded him. “I’ve got a variety pack of chips... you know, the sort of bags you always have laying around on your back seat,” he laughed. “Popcorn... pie, which we can have with coffee to get you sobered up.” Not that Dean seemed to be affected. His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips, and Sam realized that he, on the other hand, might be affected.

“Ah... carrots. Peeled and in lime juice... I’m sure you’ll like those,” Sam said, trying to jolt his wandering thoughts away.

“Carrots in lime juice?” Dean said, baffled. “I’ll pass on those, veggieman. The pie and coffee sound awesome. I’m sure I worked off the donuts and lunch, so I think a couple pieces of pie would be good. And I’ll never turn down a good massage,” he told him with a wink.

“Yeah?” As the movie started, Sam ran his hand up and down the back of Dean’s thigh, squeezing him lightly through his jeans. He sat up, finding it easier to reach, and knowing he could do a better job of it like this.

After a while, he was only half-concentrating on the movie. He lifted up and sat back down, this time between Dean’s legs, and was able to massage the thighs and calves of both his legs at the same time.

Although Dean was watching the movie, he was hyper aware of Sam’s strong hands on his legs and couldn’t help wishing Sam would get naughty. They couldn’t do anything, and hell, he didn’t really want to drive home with a hard on, so it was probably best he didn’t, but it didn’t change that Dean wanted it.

“Dude, Valentine’s Day next year, plan on taking a week-long vacation here, with me,” Dean said, sighing contentedly as Sam worked on a tight hamstring.

“Sure Dean,” Sam huffed. As if ‘look but don’t touch’ or technically, ‘don’t touch too much,’ was what he wanted for Valentine’s. His gaze dropped to Dean’s ass. If his legs were sore...

“Please,” Dean asked. His eyes widened when he felt Sam’s long fingers begin to knead his buttocks. He started to tell Sam to stop, but dammit, it felt so freaking good. A groan slipped from his throat before he even realized it.

“Please what?” Sam asked, moving his hands in tandem. He could almost imagine touching Dean under his jeans. Just imagining Dean spread out in front of him like this, but without a stitch of clothing, had blood surging to his cock. He was playing with fire and he knew it.

It took Dean a moment to remember, his brain sent into ultimate relax-mode by Sam’s hands. “Please...take the vacation with me for Valentine’s Day. Damn, that feels good.”

Sam leaned over to whisper in Dean’s ear, as he continued to massage Dean’s firm ass. “So, you basically want me to walk around with blue balls for a whole week?” He took a deep breath, drawing in Dean’s intoxicating scene. “Only you could talk me into something like that.” Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth across the back of Dean’s neck, then sat back, continuing his own private day dream.

“Is that a ‘yes?’” Dean asked, arching his neck up at the touch of Sam’s lips.

Sam leaned forward again, this time laying on top of Dean from his waist up. “Probably.” He started to kiss the shell of Dean’s ear, nibbling it. “Maybe.” Kissing his way down Dean’s neck and dragging his mouth across his shoulder, he whispered, “Definite maybe.”

Dean gave a soft moan as Sam laid across him and he felt his cock begin to harden as heat pooled in his groin. They could make out. They were allowed to make out. That wasn’t breaking the rules. Just no touching the equipment or getting off without getting paid. “Just say you will,” Dean said, one hand lifting up to caress Sam’s side.

“You really like to torture me, don’t you?” Sam asked, moving back to the side of Dean’s neck, knowing how sensitive he was right there. He only lingered for a little while, his hips moving of their own accord when Dean touched him. Course he had no pressure on his cock... but he could have it, if he just moved slightly. “I want to,” he said. “Want to so damned much,” and it wasn’t only Valentine’s he was talking about.

“I know,” Dean whispered. “Me too.” He gave a sigh and let his hand drop away from Sam’s side, the movements Sam making unmistakable. “We probably...Yeah, we need to stop here. Just lay here next to me, Sammy. We can finish watching the movie,” he said, though he hadn’t really been paying much attention to it and watching the movie was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

Lifting up, Sam rolled Dean over onto his back and locked gazes with him. Lowering his mouth suddenly, he kissed Dean, again and again, unable to stop. He was dizzy with desire, with need, with... fuck it, he loved the guy. And it was damned clear Dean liked him back, a lot. Stopping made no sense. Stopping was wrong. Dean would see that, he had to, he thought, lowering his full weight down over Dean, and moaning at all the feelings stirred up in his body.

Dean couldn’t help but kiss back. He wanted to taste Sam, to be with Sam and only Sam. Sam’s body pressing against him sent fresh flames racing through him and his hips began to lift...and then he remembered. The deal.

Breaking Sam’s kiss he shook his head. “Can’t,” he choked out. “Can’t. You know I can’t. I’m sorry. This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake. I want...” he closed his eyes, cursing that he’d agreed to the not explaining part, not telling why. “...I should go,” he finished, his brow creasing, his hand caressing Sam’s cheek, knowing that he’d probably just fucking ruined it, totally and completely.

Sam shoved Dean back down. “It’s not a mistake. Don’t call it that,” he said, his eyes flaring. Straddling Dean’s hips in a way he hadn’t before, he knew he’d give anything for this. “How much,” he said, his voice husky and soft, a muscle throbbing in his jaw as he caved.

“It’s a mistake because you don’t want to pay and I don’t want to blackmail you into it,” Dean said, “that’s all I’m saying.” Seeing Sam’s look and feeling his cock pressing against Sam’s ass he closed his eyes. Pulling Sam down, he whispered in his ear the rates.

“Okay. All night. Breakfast?” Sam asked, “And no weirdness about it.” That was important to him, even though his hormones were on overdrive.

“No weirdness,” Dean said. “And breakfast...yeah,” he added breathlessly, shocked Sam was willing to pay for it as adamant as he’d been all this time. “Tell me what you want. Top, bottom, bondage, control...I want it...perfect for you.”

Tensing, Sam sucked in a breath. “How much for you to... for this not to be about me as a client. I want you. I want your real reactions. I don’t want...” he sliced his hand through the air, “I want it real. Double?” he asked, serious about wanting it to be just how it would be if no money exchanged hands.

“I usually tell my clients they get as much real me as I’ll sell. If you want me as a lover not a ‘worker,’ then...yeah. Double’s good enough. I usually tell them times five just to get them off the topic, but for you...just double.”

“Done.” Sam shoved the whole paying thing out of his mind, not wanting it to impact this moment between them. “It’s just you and me now,” he said. “It’s our Valentine’s Day.”

With that declaration, he put his hand on Dean’s cheek and brought his mouth down hard, kissing him with all the heat coiled tight in his body, all the desire, the need he’d had to clamp down on for so long.

Dean was free, free to take Sam the way he wanted, free to do anything with Sam, and for the first time since the deal, he felt the self-made chains fade away, at least for the night. He could make love to Sam, he could be with Sam the way he’d been imagining.

Kissing Sam back just as hard, he rolled Sam over onto his back, and began tugging at his clothes, wanting to see and touch and kiss every bit of flesh on this man who practically possessed his dreams.

Sam lifted slightly off the floor and raised his arms, allowing Dean to peel the t-shirt off him. His own hands were at Dean’s hips, under his shirt, pushing it up as he caressed Dean’s sides. When Dean’s t-shirt started to bunch up, they both tugged it up and over Dean’s head, discarding it.

Somehow, Sam managed to snag the remote control off the coffee table and switched to a music station. Somebody up there was looking after him, or after his sex life tonight, anyways, cause it couldn’t have been more perfect than having AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” blare through the surround sound.

Sam reached up for Dean just as Dean lowered over him, and they were kissing again. No more stealing a touch, copping a feel, and having to control the blinding need to be with Dean in every sense of the word. Dean’s kiss was hard, deep and desperate, echoing the feelings that had been building inside Sam.

He touched Dean everywhere, gripping his hips, splaying his hands wide over Dean’s back and shoulders, tugging on him, caressing him, loving how he felt in his arms. Loving the sensations that ran through him as Dean’s calloused palms, so different than most of the men he’d been with, swept over his skin, making him grow hotter and hotter.

Rolling them over, Sam looked down into the depths of Dean’s green eyes and felt his heart clench for a moment. Then he stretched his arm, reaching for his wallet on the end table, groaning softly when Dean lifted his hips and rubbed against him.

He didn’t know how it happened, but the condoms he was trying to get scattered on the floor all around them. Huffing, he forgot about them, and brought his mouth back down over Dean’s slightly swollen lips, wanting more, more of his taste, more of his heat, just more.

Dean kissed Sam back, laughing to himself as Sam huffed in frustration when Dean had disrupted his attempts to go for his wallet. He’d thought Sam was reaching to get him his money and he didn’t want to see it right now or be reminded of it. The condoms that rained around them told him that hadn’t been Sam’s intention. When Sam finally let him take in a breath he ran his thumb from the corner of Sam’s mouth up along his cheek until his fingers raked through Sam’s dark and tangled locks.

“I’m clean. I’m careful and never work without,” he nodded to the condoms, “but...I will for you, if you want.”

Heat flared in Sam’s eyes, but habits died hard. “I’d love to go bareback with you. After we’ve both had blood tests,” he answered. “It’s not because... I just never do,” he clarified, his hands moving over Dean, caressing his chest and neck. His breaths were heavy and hot as he stared into Dean’s eyes, his mouth burning with desire, with the need to taste him again.

That had been part of the deal, that he didn’t catch anything, that he didn’t pass anything along, and he agreed to do his own due diligence to that effect. “Better safe,” Dean gave a nod. “I’m onboard with that. Maybe next time. Though I can show you my blood test from two weeks ago.” He gave a smirk. “I get a test once a month, just in case. And I keep the results in my wallet.”

He arched when Sam’s hand drifted over one of his nipples and gave a soft moan. “Mmm, more of that,” he encouraged, tilting his hips and rubbing against Sam’s hard cock.

“Yeah... more … more of that,” Sam echoed, rocking against Dean, fire pulsing through him each time they ground against each other. Dropping his hands to the floor on either side of Dean, he bent his head and flicked Dean’s nipple with his tongue, again and again until it stood erect. Then he moved to torture his other nipple, this time bringing his hand up and running his thumb in circles around the nipple he’d just paid attention to.

He loved Dean’s reactions. Loved the low grunts that came from him, the sounds that intensified the ache between Sam’s legs. He was so damned hard, his cock strained painfully against his shorts and jeans. His mind was hazy with desire, with a want that just would not go away.

Scooting down a little, and groaning at the loss of pressure on his cock, Sam started to mouth Dean’s ripped abs, sucking and kissing and licking, moving ever closer to the waistband of his jeans.

Dean was used to doing most of the work, of getting the client hot and bothered, then taking it or giving it, whichever the client wanted. This was new, or at least, it hadn’t been on his radar for months at this point, nor had he figured it would be happening anytime soon. Now though, he let himself sink into the warm moist touches of Sam’s tongue and then, when Sam moved down to his abs, Sam’s mouth did things to him like he liked to do to his clients.

“Feels good, feels perfect,” Dean crooned approvingly as he ran his fingers caressingly through Sam’s hair.

Realizing Dean’s nipples were very sensitive, Sam continued to move his mouth over Dean’s abs, but reached up and lightly pinched his nipples, rolling the tight buds between his fingers. The way Dean’s muscles contracted had him doing it again.

By the time he lifted his head, Dean looked hot and flushed, and God... Sam wanted him bad. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone like this, wanting him with every fiber of his being.

Eyes locked with Dean’s, he started to unbuckle Dean’s belt. Grabbing the waistband of Dean’s jeans with one hand, he pulled him part way off the floor, and pulled the belt clear off, out of the belt loops, and eased Dean back to the floor. Holding the belt with both hands now, he dropped it on the floor above Dean’s head, pulled it down under his neck, then slowly tugged it up, forcing Dean to lift up off the ground as Sam claimed another hungry kiss.

Sam’s use of Dean’s belt surprised Dean. After Sam’s reaction to Dean “borrowing” his silk tie, he’d pegged Sam as not being interested in such things. Maybe he’d read him wrong, not that he minded Sam liked it. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s muscular back and kneaded his fingers into the solid muscles as he kissed Sam deeply.

Lifting one leg, Dean wrapped it around Sam’s thigh, twisting some to press his groin against Sam’s hip, rutting against Sam. His other leg he slipped between Sam’s, offering it up for Sam’s pleasure.

Sam groaned at the pressure, grinding his hips more firmly. It was just what he needed, and he took it. Pressing down harder, moving his own hip to give Dean what he needed too. The longer they kissed and writhed together, the more brutally hard he got in his jeans and the more he wanted to be skin against skin with Dean. Cursing, he pulled back, scooting down to sit over Dean’s thighs as he unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants. “Too many clothes,” he muttered.

Making a sound of clear displeasure, Dean practically sat up when Sam moved down onto his thighs, taking away his desired pressure. If Sam hadn’t undone his pants he would have done it for him.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. “Take me out,” he demanded, licking his lips in anticipation. His undershorts was already damp with precum and his cock was hard. With the opening of his pants, his cock tented his shorts. He watched Sam’s face with hungry eyes.

Shoving his hand into Dean’s pants, Sam pulled out his thick, hard cock, squeezing it lightly. “Have no idea how many times I thought about this... after that time in the alley,” he admitted, dipping his head down and licking the cum already drizzling from Dean’s tip. “Now I know what you taste like.”

Dean’s head fell back for just a moment as Sam’s tongue caressed his slit, feeling Sam’s hot breath wash over his cock. “Awesome. I taste awesome,” Dean said, unable to resist. “And why do you think I made sure you saw us?”

“Bastard,” Sam glared at him, though he’d pretty much figured that one out for himself. He started to pump his fist up and down, knowing damned well he should have put a condom over Dean’s dick before he licked him. He moved his fist faster, touching Dean with his other hand, running it up and down his thigh and hip, his gaze moving between Dean’s cock, and his face.

“Slower,” Dean managed to say between groans, even though all he wanted was faster and harder. He wanted to savor Sam’s touch, wanted to remember it. Most of his clients had callouses. Sam had only a few and his hands seemed silken. Dean thrust his hips when Sam’s hand was at the base of his cock so he could feel Sam’s light touch on his balls and his eyes fluttered shut.

“You like to be sucked there?” Sam asked, slowing his motions and hungrily taking in every one of Dean’s reactions.

“By you, I think I like to be sucked anywhere. Give it a try and see.”

“M’kay.” Sam shifted so that he was now lying between Dean’s legs, still pumping his cock. He swept his tongue over his lips, his breath catching at the way Dean’s eyes tracked the movement. Then he tipped his head forward, and instead of sucking Dean’s balls, he sucked on a spot on his inner thigh, smiling against his warm skin as he practically made love to the area.

It took all Dean’s control not to writhe at Sam’s attention to his inner leg. “Yeah, yeah, definite winner there,” he managed to say, his eyes back on Sam, locked on his every move. “You look fucking hot, Sammy.” Using the leg Sam wasn’t teasing with his mouth and tongue, he ran it along Sam’s back and over the curve of his ass until he could slide his heel down between Sam’s thighs.

At the unexpected touch between his legs, a deep groan erupted from Sam, who lifted his head and met Dean’s eyes. His nostrils flared slightly as he drew in hot breaths, allowing them to gust against Dean’s thigh. “And you are fucking hot.” He arched his neck back and groaned again as Dean’s heel pressed against his aching balls.

Dean smirked at Sam’s reaction, pleased.

Dipping his head, Sam kissed Dean’s other thigh and slowly made his way between his legs. Licking up the center of Dean’s balls, he pulsed his tongue at the base of his cock, still stroking him slowly. Then he sucked half his sack into his mouth, rolling his tongue over taut skin.

“Fuuuuck,” slipped from Dean as Sam shifted his attentions and his smirk disappeared. His balls sucked into Sam’s mouth, yeah, that was damned hot. Then there was pressure, the way Sam’s tongue moved with perfect precision. “You’re gonna have me coming in no time,” he groaned, forcing himself to hold back, to keep his hips as still as he could.

Dean’s words only made Sam work harder, give more. He knew Dean got a lot of sex, but he wanted Dean to find this special. He wanted to give Dean a reason to remember this, what was between them. To distinguish it from the rest. And once Sam had a goal, he never backed away from it.

Slowly, he started to lick a path up Dean’s already slick cock. Holding it, he tongue-fucked his slit. When he felt Dean jerk, he placed one hand on Dean’s hip, pressing him down and helping him stay in place as he went down on his cock, taking him deep, working him.

The moans spilled from Dean as readily as the precum was dribbling from his cock as Sam’s tongue worked his slit. Sam’s hand on his hip both helped and made it worse. He was so focused on feeling Sam’s lips and tongue at his tip that when his cock was suddenly encased in Sam’s mouth he nearly lost it.

“Sonuvabitch!” Dean shouted and arched and groaned, somehow keeping himself from thrusting deep into Sam’s throat. Words he wasn’t sure were comprehensible spilled from him. “Baby...good...so fucking good...shit Sammy...ungh, yeah, yeah...when I’m...you aren’t gonna be able...rid of me...fuck...nghhhh...”

Sam couldn’t think of a single better reaction than Dean just gave him. It made him want more, more of Dean’s reactions, more of Dean sounding out of control. Driven by his own needs, Sam hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, and moving his head up and down faster. He hummed around Dean’s length, sometimes moaning in response to the sounds Dean made.

Dean didn’t hold back any of his groans of pleasure and no longer tried to keep himself still as he writhed under Sam’s expert attention. “Who’s the professional here?” he asked breathlessly though Sam’s increased humming made his words nonsensical again. The tightening of his balls was sudden and nearly caught Dean off-guard. “Pull off! Pull off! Gonna--” he warned as he felt the orgasm begin to spiral through his groin.

It would have been hard to miss the signs, but Dean’s shouted warning had Sam reluctantly pulling his mouth off Dean’s cock. His hand followed the path of his mouth and smoothly took over, pumping Dean’s cock, and paying more attention to its head, shaking it lightly, encouraging the thick ropes of cum that shot out as if there was pressure behind it.

His hand coated with warm cum, Sam kept stroking very gently, his eyes locking with Dean’s. His lips curved into a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to YouTube or... whatever tube something like this. But this... “ He felt his color rise, but it was true. Slowly, he let go of Dean’s cock, then dipped his head and pressed a kiss to his hip bone, where he’d been holding him down.

“No vids, not for any price,” Dean said, his eyelids half closed as tremors occasionally shook him. His eyes might be half-closed, but he was watching Sam intently, noticing his every move. “I’d offer to clean your hand, but then you might not kiss me.”

Smiling as Sam kissed his hip, he then gripped Sam’s biceps and tugged him up. “And I’d really like a kiss right about now. I can be sappy that way sometimes. Then it’s my turn to try and make you scream my name, unless you have more evil moves to make on me.” He licked his lips. “And I gotta say, I can’t wait until we trade blood tests. Just so you know.”

“So.... Mr. No chick flicks like kisses. I’ll give you kisses,” Sam whispered huskily, loving this softer side of Dean. He kissed Dean’s shoulder, then laid distinct kisses across his collarbone. As he made his way up Dean’s throat, he reached out a little and grabbed his discarded tee shirt, wiping his hand off. Tossing it aside, he hovered his lips over Dean’s, then dropped a chaste kiss, and grinned. “How’s that--”

“You suck at kisses,” Dean said and, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders, pulled him into a steaming hot kiss. He didn’t let Sam slip from his hold until they were both seeing spots from lack of oxygen. Grinning at Sam, he nodded his head toward the radio. “I think that oughtta be our theme song, cause I intend to do exactly that. Shake you all night long.”

Sam struggled to get his breathing under control, and gave a nod. “I’m counting on it.” He kissed Dean again, this time, his tongue moving in a slow tango with Dean’s as they rolled over. He closed his arms around Dean and, pushing his jeans down further, caressed his bare ass. Just like that, the hard ache between his legs was back with a vengeance.

“I think you like undressing me,” Dean accused. “What else would like to do to me?”

“You know what I’d like to do to you,” Sam countered, his fingers straying into the cleft of Dean’s cheeks.

Dean pushed back against his fingers ever so slightly. “Yeah?” He slid one hand down to Sam’s groin. “Ooo, yeah, I think you would,” he said, feeling Sam’s hardness. “So tell me how you’ve imagined fucking me. On my hands and knees? Or you lying there so perfectly naked and me sliding down, sitting on your cock? Maybe you want me tied up with a red silk tie over my eyes. Or just lying there, waiting to take you,” he squeezed Sam’s hardness, “to take this inside me in one deep thrust.” Leaning in he whispered into Sam’s ear. “Tell me the way you want me that you’d never thought you could really have. Tell me your secrets, Sammy. Tell me how to make you...mine.”

Dean’s words, the scenes he painted, and the way he touched him, had Sam writhing and groaning and wanting it all, everything Dean offered. His heart jumped when Dean asked how he could make him his, and he wondered how Dean could have missed the fact that Sam had been wanting just that for a long time.

Sappy words wanted to bubble out of him, but he clamped down on them. The reality was they had this one night, and he couldn’t count on others. Not really.

He moved his head and kissed Dean intensely, putting all of his need into the kiss. “I’ve been imagining long and hard,” Sam whispered thickly. “Every fucking time you walk in front of me with some other...” He bit off the words. “Everything, everything you just said, imagined all of it... well not the tying...” He took a deep breath, then tilted his face up. “Sit on my cock... take it deep. That’s what I want,” he said, tugging Dean’s jeans down to his thighs.

“Then we’ll definitely have to try the tying. Later tonight,” Dean said. “Shh-shh-shh. Take a breath, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want, what you need,” Dean paused then, the words he was so used to saying by rote catching in his throat. Sam was paying for him. The real him. He tilted his head to the right a little and rubbed his thumb across Sam’s lips. “I want it too,” he said sincerely, looking deeply into Sam’s hazel eyes. “I’ve imagined taking you...ways that would probably make you blush. I’ve imagined you taking me...yeah, ways that have made me blush and that’s not easy.”

Slowly standing, he motioned for Sam to help him out of his jeans. “You like undressing me. Make me naked. Then it’s my turn to undress you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Heart thumping against his chest, Sam knelt in front of Dean. Grabbing the bottom legs of Dean’s jeans, he gave one strong tug and had them pooling at his ankles. Once Dean stepped out of them, Sam ran both hands up the backs of Dean’s legs and under his briefs. Leaning in, he kissed his way across Dean’s abs then down to his cock, smiling when he felt it twitch against his lips.

 

Leaning back, he looked up into Dean’s eyes. “I do like undressing you,” he admitted, sweeping Dean’s shorts all the way down and off. “And I like you... really like you... naked.” He licked his lips and slowly stood up, pulling Dean flush against his frame. “I think I just... I really like you, a lot,” he whispered, slanting his mouth over Dean’s.

 

Dean chuckled. “And here I thought lawyers were smart. Falling for a hooker isn’t the brightest thing to do, you know.” He kissed Sam slowly, tenderly, letting his typical prostitute style vanish and he focused on just… simply… kissing… him.

 

He tightened his arms around Sam. He didn’t writhe or work his body to excite and wind up Sam. He simply held him, firmly, gently, like he’d never let him fall and never let him go. “For the record,” Dean said, “what you said about liking me. Yeah. Ditto. Times like two or ten or whatever.”

 

“Wait... two or ten... makes a big difference,” Sam started, but quickly lost his train of thought.

 

Sliding his hands to the small of Sam’s back, Dean continued down, gripping Sam’s ass and giving a firm squeeze before making a little space between their groins. “Time to get you ready,” he whispered in Sam’s ear and began kissing him, along his jaw, tender spots along his neck, his collarbone, all the while slowly working on getting Sam free of his pants.

 

“I’m so ready,” Sam groaned, leaning in, trying to grind against Dean’s hand working his zipper. Unable to take the torture for too long, he dragged Dean up against him again, trapping his hands between them as he rocked against him. “So. Damned. Ready.”

 

A laugh rumbled deeply in Dean’s chest. “Okay, okay,” he said. Slipping free of Sam’s hold, he flicked open Sam’s button and had his jeans open half a second later. Twisting around behind Sam, he gripped Sam’s jeans and undershorts, taking a moment to grind his own hardening cock against Sam’s ass, then tugged Sam’s clothes down around his ankles. He dragged his hands up along Sam’s legs to his hips then wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist. After dragging him backwards, he eased him to the ground, toying with Sam’s hard cock with light brushes of his fingers.

 

“So do you want me putting your raincoat on with my mouth or with my hand?” Dean whispered into his ear.

 

Sam’s sharp intake of breath was audible. He closed his eyes for a long moment, straining to find that elusive thing called control. Dean’s hot breaths fanning against his ear made it that much more difficult. He swallowed hard and nodded. Then he realized he hadn’t stated his choice out loud. “Mouth,” he said. “Damn... you make me lose myself.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you wreak havoc on me too, Sammy, since the first damned time I saw you,” Dean said, unable to resist running his hands over Sam’s body. “I am so gonna make you all mine one day, I swear I will,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

Letting go of Sam once Sam was resettled onto the floor, Dean picked up one of the packets that Sam had spilled across the floor and opened it. He settled himself over Sam’s legs, just below his knees, then popped the condom into his mouth. Locking gazes with Sam, he slipped his tongue inside the condom and danced the tip of his tongue in it. He glanced down at Sam’s sizeable cock and slowly wrapped his fingers around its hard, firm shape.

 

Not wanting to miss anything, Sam refused to lay all the way back. Instead, he stayed half-sitting, watching Dean’s every move, his gaze flicking from the tip of Dean’s tongue encased in latex to his hand, now closed around his cock. A soft moan escaped him as his eyes closed a little, so he was watching from under his lashes. For a time, he’d forgotten to breathe, and suddenly found himself gasp in some air. Reaching with one hand, he caressed Dean’s shoulder and arm; it gave him something to grip each time the sensations got too intense and he needed an outlet. 

 

Leaning over, Dean began playing with the very tip of Sam’s cock, using his lips to explore Sam’s slit, the edges of his crown, and any other part he could use to drive Sam crazy. When he’d abused Sam enough, he positioned the condom in his mouth and suddenly went down on Sam, sliding the condom neatly on the entirety of Sam’s cock. Pulling off just enough to pinch the tip of the condom between his lips, he tugged, giving Sam’s spunk an extra smidge of room, then went all the way back down on Sam’s cock, deep throating him.

 

“Oh God... that’s art. Is that art?” Sam didn’t know if he was making a statement or asking. “Yeah... it is,” he answered his own question, pressing down on Dean’s shoulder to prevent him from coming up just to answer his question.

 

Very slowly, Sam laid down and closed his eyes. He was still encased in the heat of Dean’s mouth, but Dean was barely moving. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, grimacing as he fought the need to thrust hard into Dean’s mouth. “Dean!”

 

Dean was busy running his tongue around the latex encased cock, making sure it was all good and wet, but he couldn’t help snickering to himself at Sam’s frustration. He could feel the tension in Sam and knew just how badly Sam wanted to use Dean’s mouth. When he finally pulled off of Sam’s cock, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Yeah, that’s art,” he said and crabbed forward on his knees until he knees were above Sam’s hips. Reaching behind him, his gaze on Sam’s hazel eyes, he gripped Sam’s cock. He closed his eyes a moment, relaxed his inner muscles, then without any more warning, sank fully onto Sam’s cock, letting out only the barest of grunts as Sam entered him.

 

“Jesus!” Sam exclaimed at the sudden pressure surrounding his cock, reaching out and gripping Dean’s thigh. A little wide-eyed, he stared at Dean for a long moment, then he managed a laugh. “Art... yeah, that was artistic... is...” He licked his lips, then moved his hips a bit, a soft moan escaping him. He slid his hand up and captured Dean’s hand, threading their fingers together. With his free hand, he gripped Dean’s hip, holding him in place. As Sam slowly rolled his hips, heat swept through him like a tidal wave. “So fucking hot,” he said, his voice thick and raspy, his eyes laser-focused on Dean.

 

Dean’s eyes half closed as Sam’s cock rolled inside of him, brushing over his prostate. “You said take it deep,” Dean said, tightening his fingers and squeezing Sam’s hand.

 

Wriggling a little from side-to-side, Dean then bounced, barely moving Sam’s cock in and out of him, but being sure to put some pressure on Sam’s balls every time he came down. “Bend your knees, put your feet flat, then I can lean back and do a lot more interesting things for both of us.” Dean grinned. “And dude, I am so much more that hot. I’m smoking.” 

 

As another curse fell from Sam’s lips, he gave a nod. “Not arguing,” he managed, doing exactly what Dean asked. He pumped his knees against Dean’s back a few times, pushing Dean forward slightly and groaning. “Don’t get too interesting too quickly. I... I want this to last,” he practically whispered, sounding a little feverish.

 

“You’re the one who said you’ve got endurance. Thought you could keep up with me all--” Dean squeezed his muscles, “night--” then released only to squeeze Sam’s cock again, “long. Wuss.”

 

“Recharge time is minimal,” Sam countered, “but I’ve been waiting for this... for a long time. And. Fuck.... Your... your art is damned.... effective,” he eventually managed, lifting and thrusting his hips. Tugging on Dean’s hand, he forced him close and licked across his lips. “Mmm.” He tried again, this time locking his mouth over Dean’s and sucking his tongue into his mouth. 

 

Although Dean had planned to torture Sam a bit, when Sam pulled him forward, he blanketed Sam’s body with his own and groaned as Sam sucked rhythmically on his tongue. Dean used Sam’s paced rhythm to begin to slide slowly up and down on his cock, pulsing his muscles even as he pressed his own cock into Sam’s firm abdomen. 

 

Stretching out his fingers, he stroked them up and down Sam’s sides, occasionally tightening his grip then finally slipped one hand between them, rolling Sam’s nipple between a finger and thumb.

 

At first, they barely moved, and Sam was stuck somewhere between heaven and hell. He was burning, slowly burning up. The itch... the need for friction... was building, and Dean kept raising the stakes with the way he fingered his nipple and touched him. Determined to last, especially after Dean’s taunt, Sam took it. He let Dean set the pace, he let him torture him. He used the kiss as an outlet, deepening it, exploring every corner of Dean’s mouth. _Hot_ did not cover what this man was, or the things he did.

 

Groaning, Sam freed his hand and pushed it between them, closing it around Dean’s thick cock. He squeezed a few times and started to pump, his eyes practically rolling into his head when he felt Dean jerk against him.

 

Dean was so accustomed to doing the pleasuring, to no one touching the merchandise, that Sam’s touch on his cock startled him. He groaned into Sam’s hot mouth as Sam’s hand jacked him. He began kissing Sam back hard, almost desperately. It felt so fucking good to have Sam beneath him, in him, touching him, kissing him...too many times he’d woken up from dreams like this, and for just a moment, he feared this would once again prove to be an illusion, ethereal and fleeting. Sam might have asked for slow, but Dean wanted Sam so damned badly, wanted Sam to take him, he wasn’t content with the pace.

 

Breaking the kiss, he looked into Sam’s heat-filled eyes. “Want you, baby, want you to take me, take me hard. Fuck me like you mean it, like I’m your only,” he said, his voice husky and needful.

 

 _You are._ What Sam didn’t say out loud, he expressed with his eyes. 

 

Gripping Dean’s hips, he started to lift his own, keeping his thrusts slow, but making each one a little harder, penetrating a little deeper. He bit his lower lip and kept the pace steady, needing every last shred of his self-control to prevent himself from giving Dean exactly what he asked for, what his eyes were pleading for.

 

Watching Dean, feeling him clench around his cock, seeing the heat building in his eyes, Sam’s thrusts became less precise. He was moving to the edge, and he knew it. Suddenly going still, he blew out a hot breath. “Hands and knees,” he said, his head snapping to the side, like he wanted Dean to move to the side. “Now.”

 

Dean didn’t want to move, he just wanted Sam to move, to fuck up into him, to kiss him and make him come. Resisting the order at first, Dean tried to capture Sam’s lips, but he couldn’t and a soft growl left his throat. He pulled off of Sam with little warning and rolled to his hands and knees, his head down, his back muscles flexing. “Fuck me, Sammy, fuck me now,” Dean pleaded, wanting Sam’s hand back on his cock and Sam’s cock back inside of him. 

 

In a split second Sam was behind Dean and pushing his aching cock inside in one hard thrust. Moving forward as far as he could, the fronts of his thighs pressing against the backs of Dean’s, he whispered hotly into Dean’s ear. “Gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t remember your name.” With each promise, he rocked his hips forward, shifting until he found the position he wanted. “You’re mine. Just mine.”

 

Pulling part way out, Sam angled his hips and slammed back inside, his hips slotting against Dean’s ass. Groaning, he started to fuck Dean, fucked him hard right from the start. By the fourth thrust, he was almost lifting Dean off the ground.

 

Sam closed his arms around Dean, holding him in place with an iron grip. Once he got a good rhythm going, he slid one hand down and found Dean’s cock, groaning when he found it was already slick with precum. “You want it harder?” he asked, grunting a little with the effort. 

 

Sam expected him to answer just as he closed his hand around Dean’s cock? Dean practically jerked, thrusting forward only to have Sam thrust hard into him, pushing him further forward. 

 

“You call this...hard?” Dean asked, panting, moaning, pushing back against Sam. It was exactly what Dean wanted, what he needed. Almost. “And where’s my fucking hickey? You don’t fuck a guy like this without giving him a...fuckkk, yeah,” Dean said when Sam plunged in extra hard and it took all his strength to stay up on his hands. “Hickey. Want one.”

 

“Sure you do. You’ll bite my head off in the morning,” Sam answered, pistoning in and out of Dean so hard that the sound of skin slapping skin reverberated around them. Despite his words, Dean’s request got to him, like Dean had tapped into some primal need. Holding Dean a fraction tighter, Sam’s mouth latched over the soft, sensitive skin at the side of his neck. He sucked it into his mouth, tasting salt and Dean, and wanting more.

 

 _So close, so close!_ was screaming in Dean’s mind as he tilted his head to give Sam total access to the side of his neck. Sam was right, he shouldn’t let Sam mark him, but he wanted the mark, wanted it desperately.

 

A part of Sam wanted to do this forever. Hold Dean tight. Fuck him hard. Jerk him off. Claim him with his mouth. Yeah, nothing could be sweeter. But another part of him needed release, needed it worse with each passing second. He started to fuck harder, groaning as Dean pushed back against him just as hard. _More. More. More._ Long, deep thrusts gave way to short, simple, effective thrusts bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

 

Dean felt it when Sam’s rhythm shifted, when his needs changed and ratcheted up. Dean began to groan louder and push back more sharply, squeezing his inner muscles, pushing Sam harder and harder. “Come, Sammy, come for me!” Dean demanded, giving Sam everything he had.

 

There wasn’t much that Sam could comprehend through the raging haze of desire, but those words cut through. They set him free. He started to ride Dean harder, his need for the man consuming him. “Dean... Dean.... Dean!” he shouted, grinding against his ass as he came, moving against him and only just remembering to keep the pressure on Dean’s cock.

 

Sam’s erratic pulsing, his shouts, it was all perfectly clear when Sam began to fall apart. If Dean hadn’t needed to focus on keeping his palms dug in and his arms stiff against Sam’s relentless pounding, he would have turned to watch Sam’s face. Next time, he promised himself, next time.

 

Once Sam started to come, when he stopped thrusting, Dean was able to lift one hand up and close it over Sam’s hand encircling his hard cock. Guiding Sam’s hand up and down his long leaking length, it took hardly any effort for Dean to follow suit, his balls twisting tight up against him. “Fuckkkk! Sammy!!” he shouted, finally getting the release he’d wanted and needed. Without realizing it, he collapsed forward, panting and sweating, savoring Sam’s weight on top of him.

 

“Sam... It’s Sam...” he answered faintly, kissing Dean’s shoulder then lifting his own head. Seeing the mark he’d left was darker than he’d planned, he felt only a little guilty about it. “That was... God....” He couldn’t even string words together.

 

“Nah, I’m good but no delusions of godhood here,” Dean said wearily. closing his eyes for just a moment. “Perfect. I think perfect is the word you’re looking for. And steaming hot, maybe. That too. For you...Awesome. Yeah, ‘Awesome Sammy.’” Dean chuckled happily, twisting his head and cracking his eyes open. “Kiss me, Mr. Awesomeness.”

 

Laughing, Sam tried to kiss Dean, but pulled back. “No, I think ‘nuts’ is the word I’m looking for, for you.” Closing his arms around Dean, he kissed him slowly, taking his time and savoring it. “Whattaya say we move this party to the bedroom, or the shower... or the Jacuzzi,” he whispered. All he wanted to do was lay there with Dean in his arms for a while longer, but he knew that they would go at it again soon.

 

“Shower. Then Jacuzzi. Then bed,” Dean said, covering one of the arms Sam had wrapped around him with his own and he was obviously content for the moment to just lie there. When he finally felt motivated to stir he gently elbowed Sam. “C’mon, time for the next round, unless you’d rather wuss out and sleep. Lazy.”

 

“I’ll show you lazy...” Laughing, Sam sat up and tugged Dean up. Getting up, he pulled the condom off and started heading for the kitchen. “You go hide... I’ll seek,” he said, giving Dean a look before ducking into the kitchen to get rid of the used condom.

 

Dean grinned and scrambled to his feet, snatching up a couple condoms. “Oh yeah. I’m good at this game,” Dean declared and dashed off to another part of the cabin, ready to pounce Sam at first opportunity.

 

* * *

 

Sam woke and found himself wrapped around Dean, his arm holding Dean securely. He took a deep breath, drawing in Dean’s intoxicating scent. Memories of the night came rushing back. 

 

He couldn’t believe how many times they’d done it. In the kitchen, while eating pie. In the dining room, bent over a table. In the shower. Twice. Outside. And in his bed. They’d gone through his condoms and had to break out Dean’s. Yeah... they’d both proven they had stamina.

 

For him, it had been more than proving he could keep up with Dean. It was about knowing tonight was special. That it might never happen again, because he did not intend to ever pay for it again. And something more. He’d allowed himself to fall into a fantasy, to pretend it was more than ‘business.’ Hell.. a part of him knew, just knew what was between them was more than business. But another part of him couldn’t understand why Dean made it about business, at least on the surface. He didn’t have to. Hell... it wasn’t like strippers or hookers never had personal lives... loves. So why did Dean insist on payment, while giving hints... glimpses into his desires. Desires that had nothing to do with money?

 

Last night... Sam knew he’d lost his heart for sure. Not that there had ever been a question, but for him, nothing would ever be the same. Oh, he’d go back to being friends, close friends, but what had been a small ache in his heart was a crater of pain now. 

 

Dropping a light kiss on Dean’s bare shoulder, he disentangled himself and got out of bed. Pulling open a drawer, he got a pair of briefs and pulled on some light sweat pants over them. He also put a couple things out for Dean to wear, even though he probably had clothes in the car.

 

Right before he left his room, he looked over at the bed where Dean slept peacefully on his side. That was a sight he sure could get used to waking up to. 

 

*

 

Forty-five minutes later, Sam was done making breakfast and had started to load the food onto two breakfast trays. Was it crazy that he couldn’t wait to see Dean again, or that he hadn’t even checked his e-mail? Yeah... nuts, totally nuts, he thought.

 

*

 

Dean rolled onto his back, missing the warmth that had been there. As consciousness wormed its way into his brain, filtered light from closed curtains pried its way under his eyelids. He ached. It was a damned fine ache, but he ached. Everywhere. Jesus, the dreams he’d had about Sam last night...

 

His eyes sprang open.

 

Looking around, he realized he was in Sam’s cabin and that it hadn’t been a dream, not any of it. He stretched, sore from the bike riding more than from anything that he and Sam had done. Sam wasn’t anywhere in the room but Dean could smell food cooking and his stomach growled in echo to his own thoughts of hunger.

 

Climbing slowly out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and took care of business then stepped into the shower for a three minute rinse off. He usually took a shower before bed, but since he’d been with Sam all night...he sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He’d never thought he’d want someone permanent and before all this, he really had only had a passing fancy for guys. Sam though, Sam was something special. Someone...someone he’d like to keep around, maybe permanent-like. Last night had been more than just sex, at least for Dean. It had shown him what might be possible.

 

Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and looked in the mirror. He hadn’t even been in the shower long enough for it to fog up.

 

“Trickster! C’mon, I know you’re watching and laughing your ass off at me.” Dean stared into the mirror and willed the Trickster to make an appearance. “C’mon dammit. I want to renegotiate the contract!”

 

The visage of the Trickster appeared in the mirror, his eyes dancing. “No renegotiations. You agreed to the rules.”

 

“Look, you said I had to work basically nine to five for a year as a hooker. That means I get a private life.”

 

The Trickster grinned. “And you can do anything in that private life you want...except anything you get paid five-hundred an hour or more for. C’mon Deano, I let you have your little dates with Sammy. And you get to take time off to hunt...so long as you make up those hours.”

 

Running his fingers through his damp hair, Dean glared at the smug prankster. A little over eight months ago, after a fairly impressive fight with the Trickster, the Trickster, who was clearly going to escape, offered Dean a deal. They’d gone back and forth on the details for a good ten hours or more, until Dean’s head was practically spinning. It was obvious the Trickster was having his fun with some of the more ridiculous offers he made Dean. Dean, in turn, tried to get rid of the Trickster permanently. Finally they settled on no more _lethal_ pranks from the Trickster for the next hundred years if Dean, the man who was a hard-core wanderer, settled in one place and the Trickster offered Dean a variety of possible jobs. Acting? Was the guy nuts? Bakery owner? That was kinda tempting. Tax accountant? Kill him now. Lawyer? Oh that was all sorts of funny. Hooker...that caught his attention. He wouldn’t mind getting paid to do one of his favorite past times. 

 

The rules were simple. He had to charge five hundred an hour or more for any intimacy, for one year. If Dean broke the rules, Dean was the Trickster’s bodyguard for the next ten years with no time off for good behavior. And no pie for those ten years either. Dean didn’t care so much about the bodyguard aspect, but no pie? That went beyond cruel as far as he was concerned. The Trickster had put him in California, in a high-rise that cost Dean a large share of the money he made hooking full time. 

 

“Dude, c’mon. I’ll make up every hour I spend with Sam,” Dean said.

 

The Trickster shook his head.

 

“I’ll extend the contract another year, if I can give it to Sam for free. I just want to be able to be with Sam when I’m not working.”

 

“Awww, isn’t that adorable, Dean Winchester falling in love! Better than even I’d hoped. The ultimate prank.”

 

“I’m not--” Dean hissed at him “..look, I don’t want to fuck this up with Sam. At least let me tell him, explain to him.”

 

Throwing his head back, the Trickster laughed. “No, it’s too much fun this way.” Grinning, the Trickster met Dean’s glare. “Go have fun. And remember no morning awkwardness. You promised him,” he said, waving his finger at Dean, then faded from view.

 

“Fuck off,” he growled after the Trickster had disappeared.

 

*

 

Sam set the tray down on the chest of drawers, a frown marring his features. He glanced toward the bathroom door, which was partly open, then walked towards it. “Dean?” He warned of his approach, then stood in the doorway. 

 

The sight of Dean with a towel wrapped around his waist should have made him happy, but instead, worry filled his eyes. “You’re not... you’re not practicing what to say to me or anything, are you?” he asked. At first, he’d thought he’d heard two voices, but his eyes confirmed he’d had to be imagining it.

 

Dean wiped his annoyance with the Trickster from his face when he heard Sam’s voice and brought out his charming smile. “What? Course not. No morning weirdness, remember? I’m an artist. I talk to myself,” Dean said, approaching Sam and pulling him into a kiss. When he finally let Sam breathe again he leaned in and murmured in Sam’s ear, “Had an awesome time last night. Just so you know. The best night. Ever.” Straightening he breathed in deeply. “Do I smell food?”

 

Relieved, Sam gave a broad smile. “Yeah. Breakfast in bed, that’s the plan.” He stepped back, ran his hand down Dean’s arm, and clamped down on his emotions. And on the things that wanted to spill from his lips. “C’mon.”

 

Quickly, he retreated from the bathroom. “Clean underwear and sweat pants over there, if you want them. Clothing is optional,” he joked, as he went to the closet to pull out the breakfast tray tables. “You wanna hit that button on the wall?” he asked, as he put the plates on the trays.

 

“I don’t know, you were pretty adamant about me not wearing your shorts,” Dean teased and pressed the button. The curtains rolled slowly open, a beautiful mountain view spreading out before them.

 

“Mmm, nice,” Dean said, pulling on the shorts and sweats. He didn’t want to tempt Sam and he sure as hell didn’t need the temptation either. After fluffing both their pillows and positioning them so they could both lean back against them, he hopped into bed and grinned at Sam. “I’ve never had anything like this. A cabin. A rich boyfr--a rich friend who spoils me sometimes. Hell, vacations are kinda a new concept to me.”

 

“You can... ah... keep the shorts,” Sam said, looking a little sheepish, cause he meant it. Dean’s slip of the tongue had him glancing at Dean. Yeah... he wished. “So, you teach me hunting, I teach you vacations... seems like a good trade,” Sam answered, settling into the bed next to Dean and putting the breakfast trays over each of their laps. 

 

Pulling the covers off their plates, Sam sat back. “Don’t get the idea I cook or eat like this every day,” he warned. “I figure I worked it all off last night...” 

 

“Bullshit. I’m going expect this every morning from now on. Only thing you forgot was the pie,” Dean said, looking down at the large meal. “And yeah, pie is good for any meal. It’s pie.” As Dean dug into breakfast, he mumbled to himself, “Wonder if he’d take a trade if I gave up pie.”

 

“You ate the pie last night when we were... you ate while I...” Sam snickered. “Guess we were satisfying different appetites.” He gave Dean a sharp look, knowing the guy had been talking to himself again, but still trying to work out what he’d meant about a trade. Before he could ask, he heard the deep sounds of satisfaction Dean was making as he dug into breakfast and lost his concentration. “Yeah... that’s what you were saying last night.” 

 

“I was louder. I was getting satisfied from both sides,” Dean said with a full mouth, yet he still managed to give Sam a leer.

 

Sam almost choked.

 

*

 

Sort of pissed with the Trickster, Dean decided he probably shouldn’t tempt Sam or himself. There was only about four months left of the deal and then he could have Sam all he wanted. Assuming Sam still wanted him.

 

“You know, you keep giving me clothes, you’re not going to have any left,” Dean teased Sam as he stood at the door, duffle in hand. “I’ll have to come up again so we actually make it to the fishing part of the trip.”

 

Morning hadn’t been awkward, but _now_ felt awkward. He wanted to tell Sam everything, wanted to tell Sam to wait, that it was only a few more months, then he’d stop hooking...but he couldn’t say any of those things. Giving a slight jerk of his head and shrug he tried to smile. “I, uh, I guess I ought to head on back. You’ll be back in a few days, right? Maybe Sunday we can...do a movie or something?”

 

“Sure,” Sam answered, searching Dean’s face for a long moment. A part of him had known things would go back to how they’d been. But he hadn’t completely been able to suppress the hope that last night changed things. That part of him felt crushed and bruised, though he refused to let it show.

 

He looked down for a moment, then pulled a stack of hundred dollar bills out of his back pocket. Licking his lips, he passed the money to Dean. As Dean quickly pocketed the money, Sam felt a sharp stab in his heart. At least the moment was over quickly.

 

Dean refused to look at the money, to even count it. He knew Sam wouldn’t stiff him. He decided then and there he’d make up the money Sam paid in some excess charging and when this was over, he’d give Sam back the money. These very same bills. Because he wasn’t about to put in his ledger that he’d taken money from Sam. Last night had been too special, too perfect. He just wished he could tell Sam that. 

 

Following Dean outside and down the porch stairs, Sam went to get Dean’s bike. It was parked right alongside his own. His was shiny and new looking, Dean’s was worn and well-used. And yet, they made a great matching pair.

 

Kicking himself for his whimsical thoughts, Sam brought the bike over and loaded it into Dean’s trunk. Dean slammed the lid shut. 

 

There was a bit of a silence. 

 

“I’m... I’m really glad you came,” Sam said, giving Dean room to pass and get to the car door. Seeing Dean’s hand close on the door handle, he bit his lip.

 

“I’m really glad I came, too. I’m glad...” Dean’s face flushed a little, “I’m glad that the Allen in the bar was an old geezer.” He looked at Sam and wanted to beg him to just start paying for it. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t do that to Sam, not without an explanation, an explanation he wasn’t allowed to give. “Guess I better...” He climbed into the car and started up the Impala, letting the engine warm for a minute. 

 

He knew he should just go back inside, but like some love-sick adolescent, Sam found himself standing near the car, looking inside the window. When Dean rolled the window down, he felt his heart jump. But no, Dean just looked at him and didn’t make the pain go away.

 

Sam gave a forced smile, then found himself leaning into the car, his face only inches from Dean’s. “About Valentine’s Day. Okay,” he said. “It’s a d... we’re on.”

 

Dean’s face lit up. “Yeah?” He cupped his hand behind Sam’s head and kissed him hard. “It will so be worth it. I promise,” he said when he finally broke off the kiss, grinning like a fool. “See you soon. I’ll call you tomorrow when I get up.”

 

Cranking the tape player, Dean started singing along with it and grinning at Sam. He revved the engine, spinning the tires, plainly showing off for Sam, then took off down the road, waving a hand out the window as he drove.

Sam walked backwards to the porch, and sat down on the steps. How could he be both miserable and happy at the same damned time?


	10. Chapter 10

[2 weeks later]

Sam was in his running shorts and a tank top, and had a bottle of water with him when he came out of his apartment at the same time that Dean stepped into the hall. Sam cursed his timing. The elevator had dinged and Allen was walking down the hall towards them. He’d thought the guy was going to wait down in the lobby.

“You ready, Sport?” Allen asked, grinning, then looked over at Dean and raised his brow. “You didn’t let Sam talk you into coming, did you? Cause, it’s not really the day to try to cut your teeth.”

“I imagine I can do more than cut my teeth,” Dean said, glancing at Sam. “So where are you off to?” he asked Sam, trying to keep his tone pleasant and neutral. A few months. Just a few more months and then he could help Allen get lost. ….Maybe permanently.

“Practice run for the annual stair race,” Sam answered. He didn’t hold Dean’s gaze.

“I’m sure you’d do great... I mean, you look like you’re in great shape,” Allen said.

This time Sam was the one not so thrilled. “We should--” he nodded toward the elevators, but Allen went on.

“But even if you could keep up, you couldn’t start the race with us. You’d have to have gotten an elite ranking in a qualifying race. They’d hold you back for an hour...”

Sam waved a hand. “Not necessarily.”

“It’s in the rules,” Allen argued.

“And there’s _always_ a loophole. You look at the rules long enough, you’ll find one,” Sam shot back.

“So... you want him to come?” Allen asked. “I got nothing against threeso--”

Sam shoved Allen along and glanced over his shoulder, giving Dean a look that said he was sorry. His cheeks glowed a soft pink in embarrassment.

“Always a loophole...?” Dean muttered, then caught Sam’s look. “Have fun raiding the castle. And Allen, do me a favor. Whip Sam’s ass in the race.” He gave a strained smile and waved after them, adding under his breath, “Cause I’d rather Sam be looking at your ass instead of you looking at his.”

As soon as they entered the elevator, Dean returned to his apartment, his errand forgotten. He dug out that long-ass scroll bearing the agreement he’d signed with the Trickster. “Always a loophole, eh, Sammy? Shit, I hope you’re right.”

* * *  
Later that evening, Sam knocked on Dean’s door. When Dean opened it, it was clear Dean was getting ready to go out. He was drying his hair and was only partly dressed. He looked a little harried, like he was running late. It was that, or he was annoyed. Or it could be both. 

“I, ah... I found a specialty pie store. They’ve got individually-sized pies.” He raised up the bag of small boxes. “Thought about you. I’ll just put them in the kitchen and, ahh... see ya around?”

Dean looked down in the bag, grinned, and snagged one. “Dude, you’re going from ‘awesome’ to ‘awesomer.’ Even if that’s not a word.” He planted a firm kiss on Sam’s cheek and retreated back to the bathroom, opening the small box holding the pie. “Smells delicious!”

Sam went to the kitchen. Taking the pies out of the bag, he stacked some of them on the counter and put the ones that needed it into the fridge. As he turned to leave, he saw what looked like a scroll on the dining room table. 

Curious, he went to take a look. First he picked up a huge demonology reference guide, looked inside, then pushed it aside. Then he unrolled the scroll, noting the authentic-looking wax seal and the red ribbon dangling from it.

The scroll was damned long and the typewritten words on it were in a tiny font. Sam was just about to call out, to ask Dean when scrolls had gone from calligraphy to type-font, when he saw Dean’s signature at the bottom. The signature was in dark red and the ink looked suspiciously like blood.

Quickly, Sam glanced back at the beginning of the scroll and started reading. Suddenly, everything... the little things he’d noticed and tried to find out about, Dean’s unexplainable behavior when it came to their relationship... It all made sense.

Rolling up the scroll, he took it with him and closed the door silently behind him.

* * * 

When Dean got home he fell into bed without even bothering to undress all the way. He was still pretty pissed at his client and had already erased the guy’s number from his phone. It was supposed to be a four hour party and he was just supposed to be eye candy. Charm the party attendees, look pretty, dance with the guy, and maybe some light making out on the couch. The guy tried more and refused to pay for it. Called Dean things he hadn’t ever been called before. In fact, a few were in Italian and while Dean wasn’t entirely certain what they meant, he knew they weren’t compliments. And the night had pretty much gone downhill from there, including having to walk ten miles, or what felt like ten miles, at one in the morning. Only to get picked up by the cops for public intoxication, at least until Dean convinced them he wasn’t drunk, just pissed. He’d had to get a cab to take him home, and he was _still_ fucking pissed about the whole thing.

After laying in bed for an hour and not falling asleep, he gave up, got up, and showered. Looking at the time, he realized Sam ought to be getting up about now so he dashed downstairs to the coffee shop, got some fancy coffee and some of the coffee cake he knew Sam had a thing for, then rang Sam’s doorbell.

Sam was still in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before. He’d gone into the office to xerox the scroll and print it out blown up by fifty percent so he could read the damned text without going cross-eyed. He’d gotten back home near dawn and continued analyzing the contractual terms, refusing to give up.

Barefooted, he padded to the door and pulled it open. “Dean?” He glanced at the paper tray with coffees and the small bag in his hand. “You have ESP?” he asked, letting him in and taking in the smell of the fresh coffee.

“Nah, got in an hour or so ago after a rotten night, couldn’t sleep, and knew now is about the time you get up...” Noticing Sam was still wearing his belt, and still in the same pants as the night before, not to mention the stubble on his chin, Dean frowned. “...but you haven’t gone to bed yet. Want me to get you more than coffee cake? Eggs, bacon, the whole nine yards?”

“No, this is perfect.” Even before Dean set the coffee down, Sam snagged it from him and took a couple long swallows. “Just what I needed.” Then he closed one arm around Dean, leaned in, and kissed him. “Yeah... _just_ what I need.”

Dean kissed him back. “You’re a welcome sight and welcome company after my night. Thought I was going to have to call you to get me out of jail until I convinced the asshole cops I wasn’t drunk.” Seeing Sam’s concerned look, Dean shook his head. “They were just doing their jobs. Never mind. It sucked last night and not in a good or fun way.” Walking over to the kitchen counter, Dean set the bag and his coffee down and pulled out two plates. He knew Mr. OCD wouldn’t be able to eat the coffee cake without a plate to catch the crumbs. 

“So what sort of case has kept you up all night? Something interesting at least, I hope.” Dean glanced around at the copies of papers stacked all over the place, stuff highlighted, neatly written notes beside them, and some sheets with Post-it notes all over them.

“That...” Sam rubbed his eyes. “Well, I call that ‘the curious case of Dean Winchester,’” he said. “Hunter. Strongly independent. Ridiculously handsome, and he knows it. Works it.” He gave Dean a pointed look. “And he’s got side jobs. Artist. Sex-worker.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he turned around to stare at Sam. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Dean said, his gaze going to all the paperwork and realizing suddenly why it seemed vaguely familiar. “I can’t tell anyone about… about… _it._ Breaks the fucking contract!” He waved his hand as he winced at his own play on words. “You know what I mean! I’m gonna be stuck playing bodyguard to that douchebag and being pie-free for ten freaking years! Not to mention he can go on doing his deadly pranks! Sonovabitch!”

“You didn’t break the contract. You didn’t tell me anything,” Sam pointed out. “So who is this douchbag, Trickster?” he asked. 

He could see Dean was pissed off, maybe too pissed to talk. “Come on, man, I found out for myself. I went over every fucking line in that.... that excuse for a contract, which I’ll bet you didn’t bother to read, so I know you’re not breaching it. And I’m not asking you to tell me about it, I just wanna know who we’re dealing with here. Is it... one of your cross-roads demons?”

Dean wanted to throttle Sam, he really did. “You had no right snagging that from my place!” Dean seethed. Seeing Sam wasn’t budging, Dean opened Sam’s liquor cabinet and dumped some of the good alcohol into his coffee before taking a swig straight from the bottle. Leaning against the counter, Dean took a couple of long, deep breaths. “He’s not a demon. He’s a minor god. Like Loki or Coyote. Plays tricks on people. Half the time, lethal tricks. He’s _a_ Trickster, but I don’t know which one. Hell, he could be Loki or Coyote for all I know. Crossroad demons go for souls. I didn’t sell my soul. I’m not an idgit.” 

“An idg...” Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ll talk about whether you are or aren’t, later. But your contract, this is it, right? Just the scroll. No other addendums, or anything else?” He lifted his coffee to his lips, but before he took a sip, he added, “Make sure to take the whiskey bottle home with you.” He grimaced and shook his head at the fact that Dean probably hadn’t even noticed he’d drank right from the bottle.

“Yeah, that’s it. We spent something like fifteen hours going over it before we both agreed to it. He made the changes as we went.” He looked at the whiskey bottle and then at Sam. “You have _got_ to be shitting me. You think I’m three and have backwash or something? Dude, we’ve swapped spit how many times and you’re getting hinky over me taking a drink out of a bottle?”

“Whatever. Just take it,” Sam answered, dismissing it as a non-issue. He crossed the room, picked up the scroll, rolled it up, and then put it next to Dean. “I’ll get you out of this, you’ve got my word. And if I can’t find anything... then you’re free on Valentine’s, and that makes you mine,” he said, his eyes locking with Dean’s.

“Sam, I’ve got about fourteen weeks left. It’s no big...except...well, you. I just...you know...worried you might...get involved with someone before then. You stay available and I’m golden.”

“Now that I know... Dean, there’s no chance of me getting involved in a relationship with anyone else. I’m not sure there could ever have been, with you right across the way,” he admitted. “I don’t... I don’t want anyone else, not for... not for anything exclusive.” He wet his lips. “What about...” 

He looked away and blew out a breath, then met Dean’s gaze again. “After. When you’re free of your contract. Do you plan to... I mean, will you keep... you said you liked the line of work.” He struggled with his words, neither wanting to offend Dean, nor wanting to make it sound like some sort of ultimatum or demand.

Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. “My job’s hunting. The pay’s crap though. And yeah, I like what I’m doing, but that’s because I’ve never had anyone that I wanted to come home to, or wanted me to come home to them, y’know? Let’s just say I’m open to discussion. _Very_ open to discussion. Once I don’t have to worry about breaching my contract.”

Sam gave a nod. ”Okay. For the record, I’d... if you decide to stay in the business, it’s not a deal breaker. It’s just... it would either be exclusive for both of us, or neither of us. One way deals aren’t really me,” he said, firmly. 

Dean kissed Sam and pulled him close. When he finally broke it off he locked gazes with Sam. “I don’t like to share my toys. Just so you know. I don’t like anyone driving my baby or screwing my boyfriend. And I’m gonna be really really glad when I get to call you that.” After grabbing Sam’s ass, he returned to the counter and picked up the coffee cake. “Don’t suppose you’ve got an extra five hundred lying about before you head off to work today?” he asked as he took a bite of the cake, crumbs tumbling off his chest to the floor.

Sam shook his head, though his gaze was riveted on Dean’s mouth. Why did he fall for it, Dean knew how to get to him. Sharply telling himself to pull it together, he closed his hand around his cup. It was that, or he’d be all over Dean, and five hundred would be flying out of his pocket to pay for Dean’s services. 

“You ah... about what you said about not sharing, you’ll probably either want to get ready to run the stair race or find a way to be waiting for me at the top. It’s next Saturday. Elevators... tradition,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Either I’ll have you free of the deal, or... I already know you have lots of tricks up your sleeve for C-blocking.” He could see something simmering deep within Dean’s eyes, but it just made him smile and spread his hands like there was nothing he could do about it.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I have handcuffs and handguns. I guarantee no one will come near you.”

“Just... be there,” Sam countered, closing the distance between them and almost kissing him. Instead, he brushed his mouth against Dean’s and rested his chin on his shoulder. “I should shower and get dressed. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

“I’ll be in that elevator. That’s a promise.” Dean closed his eyes and held Sam tightly for a moment. “See you tonight. I’ll have dinner cooked or bought or something. You can eat, then crash early and get some rest. I expect you to win that stair race thingy. Otherwise I might end up making out with Allen instead.”

“Oh, he’d like that. And so would you,” Sam practically growled. “And for the record,” he pulled out of Dean’s embrace. “I don’t.... three way. He’ll probably ask....” he said, leaving it at that as he walked out of the kitchen. “Don’t finish my coffee, and don’t forget your bottle,” he added.

Dean made a face. “I don’t do substitute Deans. And I don’t need to finish your coffee, I already sampled it to make sure it was hot enough before I rang your doorbell. Licked the bottom of your coffee cake, too.” Dean dropped the rest of his own coffee cake back in the bag, grabbed it, his coffee, and the scroll, purposely leaving the bottle of whiskey behind. “Pity you don’t have that five hundred around. I could take a shower with you… See you tonight, Sammy.” He chuckled to himself as he opened the door to the hall.

Half-stripped, Sam walked back into the living room and glared at Dean’s retreating back. When the guy turned to pull the door shut, he saw the laughter dancing in his eyes. Huffing, Sam merely turned around and went back to the bathroom. He knew when an argument was lost.

* * *

It was almost 9:00 PM when Sam reviewed his diagram of the contract’s provisions, gave a loud whoop, and dropped his pencil on his table. Rocking back in his chair, he stretched for a moment, then reached for his cell phone sitting next to his docked laptop. 

Dean had given up on Sam making it home at a decent hour for dinner. He’d just picked up some fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw for them and at 8:00 PM broke down and ate dinner by himself. Since he’d kinda hoped to spend the evening with Sam, just being companionable and watching a movie while Sam was snuggled up next to him sleeping, he’d cleared his schedule for the night. He was beginning to regret that. He was getting restless and who knew when Sam would finally make it in from work.

When his cellphone rang he hit mute on the TV remote and snatched the phone up, hoping it was a job, just so he could get out of the apartment. Or have company in the apartment. He didn’t really care.

“Winchester,” Dean said, resisting the urge to be a smart ass with a ‘gun for hire’ or ‘you smear it, I’ll spear it’ opening. Might be a decent paying job, after all. 

“It’s me. You free?” Sam asked, hoping to hell Dean didn’t have appointments up the wazoo.

“Dinner’s waiting on you. Yeah, I’m free. I didn’t hear your door open. Come on over. I’ll get it reheated,” Dean said, getting to his feet to head into the kitchen to turn on the oven.

“Dinner? Aw... crap.” Sam straightened. “Sorry, I forgot. I was tied up with stuff and … yeah, I’m still at work. Anway, calling to see if you can get over here.”

“Dude, how long have you been up?” Dean asked.

“Don’t ask. Just get your ass over here. Security can call me down to come get you when you’re here. Park in the building, I’ll validate you,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “And thanks for reminding me I haven’t slept.” 

“You’re welcome. You want dinner and coffee? Want me to just grab you a burger and soda instead?” Dean asked, putting his half-finished beer in the fridge and grabbing his keys.

“Nah, I’m good. Just hurry.” Shutting the phone, Sam rubbed his eyes again. He was tired but excited.

* 

Exiting the elevator, Sam headed for the security desk where Dean was waiting. The guard had already slapped a “guest” sticker on his jacket. “I got him,” Sam told the guard.

The guard gave a nod. “You know, he looks a lot like your other friend--”

Grabbing Dean’s arm, Sam dragged him toward the elevator.

“You’ve had Allen here after hours?” Dean growled at him. “I so did not need to know that.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who said anything about after hours? Just... never mind about that. Get in the elevator with me,” he said in a suggestive tone, practically leering at Dean.

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes but got in the elevator. “Last time in this elevator you wouldn’t let me get away with shit. Don’t be giving me fuck-me eyes now unless you mean it.”

“Last time, I didn’t want to walk around with a stiffy with everyone around. There are probably three people around, now.” When the doors opened, he followed Dean inside, used his key card, then took the pen he had in his hand, showed it to Dean and put it into his pocket. “How about I give you this pen, and you give me the best elevator kissing you’ve ever given. I think I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, before Dean had a chance to say anything. Pulling him into his arms, Sam locked lips with Dean and immediately tangled their tongues together. 

Dean didn’t know what was into Sam tonight but chalked it up to lack of sleep. He didn’t have anything against kissing, even if he would probably end up with a date with his hand before he ever left the building. Or he’d be out trying to hook up with someone who looked a lot like Sam for a few hours. 

If Sam wanted the best elevator kissing, then that’s what he’d give him. Slipping his leg between Sam’s, he pushed him back against the wall, wrapping his fingers in Sam’s shirt and proceeded to kiss the daylights out of him until the elevator stopped moving. “Is this our floor or do I get to kiss you some more?” Dean breathed into his ear.

So much for his control, thought Sam, who hadn’t even realized the elevator had stopped. He held Dean tightly for a fraction of a moment, reluctant to let him go. “Yeah... already here.”

Pulling himself together, he walked out. There was no one around that he could see. Grabbing Dean’s hand, he walked him through the law library, where he saw a table that had a stack of the firm’s marketing materials. Stopping, he grabbed one, folded it, and just like he’d done with the pen, he pulled Dean’s jacket open and stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket. “There... that should cover the cost of a grope in the library, don’t you think? Yeah... I thought you’d agree.” Wheeling Dean around, he ran his hands firmly over his ass and squeezed, “Probably should take this into my office...”

Separating from Dean, he walked ahead, “Don’t do anything too interesting here, cameras,” he warned, knowing they were overhead in the hall. He quickly reached the door to his large office and walked inside. “Come on... I don’t bite.”

Dean’s eyes widened a bit, both out of surprise and confusion. It didn’t help that the kissing had certain warmed him up and the ass-squeezing sent heat straight to his cock. “You may not bite, but I think you’ve been smoking some loco weed. And for the record, it can be a lot more fun in front of cameras. Trying to avoid them as they scan adds a thrill.”

Shaking his head Dean walked into the office. Sam’s desk was stacked with various books with stuffy sounding titles, or titles that would put even the most avid reader to sleep in under ten seconds, Dean was sure. He saw the stack of copies of the scroll and then what looked like a handwritten annotated list on a yellow legal pad. Tilting his head, he looked at Sam questioningly, back to the papers and pad, then met Sam’s gaze. 

“So tell me what you found before you burst. I didn’t miss some sentence that totally bones me did I?”

“I can tell you that there’s gonna be a lot of boning between us,” Sam answered, sitting on the edge of his desk, gripping Dean’s hips and pulling him close, to stand between his legs. “A lot.” His gaze lingered on Dean’s mouth for a moment. 

“You want to let me suck you off?” he asked, the idea filling him with longing. “You can, cause...” he looked around, then pulled open a drawer and grabbed a handful of rubberbands. “I’m giving these to you,” he said, stuffing them in Dean’s pocket, which was now bursting. “Want me to bend you over my desk after? Here,” this time he slapped a full ream of paper against Dean’s chest. “That should take care of the cost. What else do you want to do with me? I’ve got plenty of paperclips I’m willing to give up.”

Dean looked at Sam, completely baffled. “Dude, make some sense. I’m pretty sure that contract doesn’t say I can sell myself for office supplies. It says minimum of five-hundred for an hour or ten per minute.”

“Yeah. And no.” Grabbing sheets that were copies of the scroll, Sam started to review them out loud. “It says there has to be consideration in the form of payment. See how the word ‘payment’ is in bold? Okay, so right here,” he shifted through the pages, “it says that the bolded term ‘payment’ means.... and it goes on for twelve paragraphs about minimum monetary payments for various services and lists everything that’s considered a service.” He started flipping through the pages again. “Now see how most places, the term ‘payment’ is in bold?’ Okay, now look here, at this footnote, and also right here... notice anything?”

Dean scratched his chin and stared at the words that made his eyes just want to cross. He’d made the Trickster read aloud the whole damned thing and explain anything in simple terms that he didn’t understand. “That’s...that’s not bolded. None of those are bolded. Shouldn’t they all be bolded?”

“Right. Unbolded term ‘payment’ simply means a payment in the usual sense... not as defined in the contract, which means you can accept anything you want, so long as it’s a ‘payment.’”

“Whoa there, Sammy!,” the man who suddenly appeared in the room said. “I got that contract from Crowley himself, King of the Crossroads. That man--well, demon--he knows how to write....Something wrong, Sammy?”

Dean stepped between the Trickster and Sam. “Sam, meet the Trickster. Or a trickster. Not really sure. You minor gods all look alike to me.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Dean. You’ll hurt yourself,” the Trickster snarked back.  
Dean gave him a fake smile.


	11. Chapter 11

After hiding his surprise at the unexpected invasion of his office, Sam checked the man out. “Thought you’d be... bigger. Scarier,” he muttered, a little disappointed. He moved to Dean’s side. “Anyway, your Demon King wrote a _book_ , not a contract. The longer you make these things, the more holes I can punch in them.”

“That,” the Trickster pointed to the copies, “represents an ironclad contract. Used similar ones through the years and you’re not the first shyster I’ve had to deal with. There’s nothing wrong with that contract, including the clarity of what Dean agreed to. Each service was provided a price. Hour requirements for the month. Minimum income. Everything is exact and clear,” the Trickster insisted.

“Right. The clauses dealing with minimums are water tight. My... client is obligated to bring in the total monthly minimum,” Sam agreed. “But, to the extent your contract purports to prevent him from _bartering_ his services for whatever he wants, it is ineffective. So long as he makes the monthly minimums, nothing prevents him from bartering... from giving it up in exchange for kisses, or dinners, or for erasers.”

“No!” The Trickster sliced the air with his hand. “That’s not possible. I’ve used a similar contract in the past and there was no bartering involved.”

Sam brought the paperwork over to the Trickster. “Take a look here,” he said, pointing to the sections of the contract as he spoke. “Unbolded word ‘payment,’ unbolded word ‘payment,’ and unbolded here and here, you see that? That means that as used in these clauses, the term ‘payment’ is read in its ordinary sense, not as defined in your contract. In its ordinary sense, the term ‘payment’ is broad and includes bartering for goods or services. Do you want me to get the dictionary?”

The Trickster glared at Sam. “Don’t get smart-ass with me, kiddo, or you’ll end up in Antarctica three miles beneath the ice.”

Dean gripped Sam’s shoulder. “Dude. He’s a minor god. As in he can wipe you out with a thought if you piss him off enough.”

Snapping his fingers, a copy of the scroll appeared in the Trickster’s hand and he scanned over the tiny text. Handing Sam a suddenly appearing magnifying glass he pointed to some clauses. “What about here and here, Matlock?”

 _Matlock?_ Sam mouthed, making a face. “I’d like to think I dress better.” He carefully read the clauses the Trickster pointed to, though he had become very familiar with them already. “The contract does use the bolded term ‘payment’ in those places,” he agreed, “but that conflicts with the other clauses I pointed out, where the unbolded term is used. If there’s an ambiguity, you have to read the contract against the drafter of the contract... which would be you. So, the contract, as read in Dean’s favor, well... you get the picture.” Still feeling the pressure of Dean’s grip, Sam heeded his warning and refrained from gloating.

“That is not the law everywhere,” the Trickster snapped.

“It’s the law in Texas, where the contract was entered. The law of the state the contract was entered into applies.”

Dean pulled Sam back and stepped in front of him just a bit. “You heard my lawyer. So long as I meet the minimums, I can give it--barter it--to whoever I want.”

The Trickster tilted his head. “Ah, but what about the clause where you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about the deal?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. I snooped, and it’s as simple as that,” Sam said with finality. “Now look, it’s not as if Dean’s thumbing his nose at your contract. You’ve got an agreement and he means to stick to the letter of the agreement. But that means that you do, too.” He thought it might be a good time to be more conciliatory toward the demigod. “If you want to file a malpractice suit against this Crowley of yours, I’ll be glad to repres--” 

“Easy, Tiger,” Dean said, interrupting Sam and giving him a look that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut. “We’re all friends here. Look,” he said, meeting the Trickster’s gaze. “I will absolutely honor my contract with you, doing the full year, making the right money, working the right number of hours. Even going over the top, above and beyond when I can. I just want...” he glanced back at Sam, “...I just want to be able to barter with him. For burgers, or lint, or rubber bands. Whatever. Just Sam. Everyone else gets charged for the full Monty.”

The Trickster folded his arms across his chest. “Do you love him?”

“W-what?” Dean asked, practically sputtering at the question.

The Trickster turned his attention to Sam. “What about you. You love Austin Powers here?”

Sam started to chuckle, but the look Dean shot him had him straightening up. “How is that material to the contract issues?” Sam asked, feeling the heat climb up the back of his neck. 

“It’s material because I say it’s material, Chuckles. Do. You. Love. Him. Want him to be your one and only?”

Glancing at Dean, Sam couldn’t get a read on him. He licked his lips and gave a nod. “Yeah. I think I love him. I mean, when he’s not leaving crumbs in the bed or drinking right outta the bottle and...” he gave a shrug. “Anyway, he doesn’t do love, but he’s very infatuated. I think that’s the word,” he said, stealing another look at Dean and still getting no help. “This is probably not the right forum for this discussion.”

The Trickster turned to Dean. “Tell me the truth, Hunter. Tell me the truth and maybe I won’t make your life hell. Or make you be my bodyguard for ten years. With no pie. Do you love Sammy-baby, here?”

Dean’s glare could have melted steel but it only seemed to amuse the Trickster. Giving a glance at Sam, he licked his lips nervously. “I dunno. Not gonna know until...you know, until it’s just me and him. No Allens or others to worry about.”

The Trickster looked between the two. He snapped his fingers and a simple sheet of parchment appeared. “New deal. You two stay together for the same amount of time you owe me, except months are years and you can bow out of the old deal right now. You two don’t make it, Dean, starts back at day one of the original contract.” He handed the contract to Sam for him to read. The language was simple if exacting in restating the Trickster’s words, making clear any ambiguity.

Dean looked at Sam. “What’s the rule in Cali? Does that ‘payment’ bold thing still get put against the Trickster? Cause if I sign that, that’ll reset the deal to here in Cali, right?”

Sam put his arm in front of Dean. “You’re not signing anything under duress.” He glanced at the contract created by the Trickster and shook his head. “I know I said short but... uh-uh... there aren’t any contingencies, it doesn’t say what happens if I die... and also no, I don’t want to be with anyone because of some damned contract.”

Ignoring the Trickster, Sam turned to Dean. “Serve out your contract. You said you like the work, so no skin off your nose. I see no upside to risking re-starting the clock when you’re almost done.”

Leaning in close, Dean whispered in his ear, “Would you...you can say no...would you go with just me, even if I’m still working out the contract? No other partners?” Dean pulled back and met Sam’s gaze, trying to keep his own emotions under lock and key. 

The Trickster gave a little shake of the new contract which had disappeared from Sam’s hands and was back in the Trickster’s. “We can write in a few contingencies to cover unusual situations, but I want a decision. Quick-ly,” he said.

Dean ignored him, remaining focused on Sam.

Sam felt his heart jump at the heat in Dean’s eyes. He remembered telling Dean he didn’t do one way deals. Slowly, he leaned in and whispered into Dean’s ear. “Is that what you want?” 

“I wanna at least try it,” Dean said, nervous about the idea of fully committing. “See if you and I...you know, are compatible and all that other Oprah crap. Can you deal with me being non-exclusive for three months while you’re exclusive? Like I said, I get it if you don’t want to. If you will, I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

“I can deal with that,” Sam nodded, “Just... make sure you have some time for me, in there.” He started to reach for Dean’s hand and then remembered _the presence_ and let out a sigh. “Can we add an addendum to the old contract about not being watched? Or barring that... you know, the contract does state Dean has a fee for voyeurs...”

The Trickster threw his head back and laughed, then his laughter abruptly ended and he stared steadily at Sam, his face stoic. “I like you Sam, I really do. Don’t make me,” he waved his hand, “piss off Dean by throwing you into a tank with a bunch of sharks just to test the theory they won’t hurt you out of professional courtesy. I have a feeling you’d lose. And don’t worry, as soon as the contract is fully met, TV Dean turns off. So, what’ll it be Dean?”

Dean took the new contract, glanced it over, then ripped it in half. “My lawyer says stick with the old, I stick with the old. And don’t worry, Sam’s the only one I’ll be bartering with.”

Pressing his lips together in annoyance, the Trickster gave Sam a mild glare. “Shakespeare had it right. First kill all the lawyers. You stick with Sam and I won’t interfere. Just make sure you meet you other duties and deadlines and profit.”

Dean put his arm around Sam’s waist and tugged him close, almost protectively. “I’ll meet ‘em.”

With a snap of his fingers, the Trickster was gone and Dean let out a big breath. “Holy shit.” Turning to Sam, before Sam could say anything, he pulled the lawyer into a hot, passionate kiss.

Sam started to express his surprise at how anyone could materialize and disappear, but once Dean’s mouth was moving against his, he forgot all about the Trickster. Closing his arms around Dean, he returned each desperate kiss with one of his own. 

Somehow, they ended up with Dean half-sitting on Sam’s desk. With his lips still locked with Dean’s, Sam reached around him, trying to clear space on the desk. “Dean...” he whispered, when Dean wouldn’t let go of him. “Didn’t know you were so into rubber bands.”

“You should see me with Peanut M&Ms,” Dean murmured back, wrapping his legs around Sam and pulling him in close.

“I bet I learn all your favorites in the next three months.” Sam’s eyes fluttered closed as their bodies pressed together. He started to pull off Dean’s jacket, grumbling about it being too warm to wear it.

“Mmm, I’ll make sure you learn my most important likes, definitely. I do kinda expect you to spoil me with good stuff for the next three months,” Dean said, helping Sam get his jacket off. As soon as it was off, he gripped Sam’s shirt where it was tucked into his pants and tugged, pulling the shirt tails out. He chuckled when he heard the ricochet of one of the buttons from Sam’s shirt as it flew into the bookcase. “I bet I could hide all sorts of fun crap in that bookcase that you’d never find,” Dean said, leaning in and not bothering to pull Sam’s shirt open. He found one of Sam’s nipples under the material and used his tongue to play with it through the shirt while he squeezed Sam’s ass cheeks, holding him close. 

An unintelligible sound slipped past Sam’s lips as he gripped Dean’s shoulders to steady himself. Slowly, he moved a shaky hand to the back of Dean’s head, holding him there as he started to unbutton his shirt. “That was...” He took a shallow breath. “Underhanded and … very effective.” 

“What was underhanded?” Dean asked innocently, pulling off his nipple, and sliding to the other one. He snaked one hand under Sam’s shirt, reaching up to the nipple he’d just abandoned, squeezing and twisting and tweaking it while he began sucking on the second. One hand still on Sam’s ass, he slid it over so his hand spread across both cheeks, and pulled Sam tighter against him as he wrapped one leg around Sam’s leg.

Groaning, Sam arched against Dean. “You. You are,” he managed even as Dean wreaked havoc with his senses. His head was spinning and his body was already gripped with lust. Running his hand under Dean’s shirt, he caressed him, then reached down and lifted Dean’s leg higher, pushing him back onto his desk. Fire raced through his veins. “Want you,” he announced, grinding against Dean. 

As soon as Dean lifted his face slightly, Sam slanted his mouth over Dean’s, his tongue pressing insistently against Dean’s lips until he got access. Making a sound of satisfaction, he put his hand under Dean’s head, giving him some support, and started to kiss the hell out of him. 

_Damn was Sam a good kisser,_ wormed its way into Dean’s mind as he finally relented and let Sam’s tongue in to duel with his own. Sam’s breath was hot, his kissing turning almost desperate as he felt Sam’s growing erection against him.

“I think,” Dean said, when they paused to take a breath, “that you have me. All you have to do is take me.” He slapped his hand down hard on Sam’s ass, then dug in with his fingers. “So take me,” he whispered into Sam’s ear. “But you will owe me some more of those little pies in trade.”

“All the way across town... you _would_ want those. Deal,” Sam grunted, thrusting hard against Dean, as Dean’s unsubtle ‘take me’ echoed over and over in his mind. “Less clothes, more action,” Sam panted, struggling to undo Dean’s jeans despite Dean’s tight hold. 

“Lemme...” he straightened, and once Dean stopped pulling him closer with his leg, he undid his own pants and pulled his pants and shorts part way down. Another minute ticked by as he tore the foil wrapper off a packet and got a condom on. Then he tugged Dean’s jeans down, and immediately stepped back between his legs, his tip pressing against Dean’s hole.

“Lube the first time,” Dean said, handing Sam a small packet he’d dug from his own wallet. “Just your dick, not my hole,” he said, kicking his pants the rest of the way off while Sam tended to that last detail.

Lifting his hips, tilting them upward, he locked gazes with Sam. “One shot. Take me in one shot,” Dean encouraged, wanting this man buried deeply inside him, wanting to feel his large hands on his cock, jacking him off as Sam pistoned into him over and over. He felt his own cock get harder at just the thought.

Dean’s demand sent blood surging to Sam’s cock and pushed him that much closer to the edge. Running his hand up over Dean’s forehead and to the back of his head, Sam slid his other hand under Dean’s ass, lifting him as he snapped his hips forward, penetrating him as deeply as possible. Sheathed inside Dean’s tight heat, Sam bit his lower lip and struggled to maintain his control, to prevent himself from taking Dean before Dean was ready.

Dean winced, arching a little at the sudden invasion. Digging his heels into Sam’s back, he held Sam there, making sure Sam wouldn’t move before he wanted Sam to. He wriggled, getting adjusted, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Put your hands on the desk, steady yourself, bend your knees,” Dean ordered. 

He’d been supporting Dean but Sam quickly released him and put his hands flat on the table, pressing harder into Dean in the process. Giving a shaky “Oh... God....” he nodded. “Steady.”

Dean gave a soft chuckle. “Back up a step.” Once Sam did, Dean pulled himself off Sam’s cock part way, then, locking his ankles behind Sam’s back, began riding Sam’s cock. He tightened his thighs, pulled his ankles in, pulled Sam into him, then relaxed back onto the desk, then did it again. And again. 

“Ungh, yeah, hold steady, just hold steady,” Dean gasped out. “You’ll get your turn,” he promised, snapping his hips up, over and over, the sounds erupting from him making it perfectly clear he was enjoying every moment of it.

“Holy fuck...” Sam hadn’t been ridden quite like this before, and holding still was much harder than he’d ever thought. His arm muscles bulged as he strained to hold in place and process all the sensations crashing through his system. The way Dean clung to him, held him like he was some pole he was fucking against. It was so hot... so damned hot, Sam was afraid of losing it. “So good,” he rasped, eventually losing the battle and starting to lower his himself like he was doing push-ups. Using his weight, he started to slowly fuck Dean, taking over when he felt Dean’s fingers bite into his back.

Thrusting hard and fast, he pushed a hand between them, closed his fingers around Dean’s thick, wet cock and started to pump. He was already wound tight, and with Dean clenching around his dick, he started to fuck harder. Needing. Wanting. Reaching. “Close... I’m close,” he warned, squeezing Dean a little harder. “Fuck...” 

“That’s what we’re doing,” Dean panted out, doing his best to help Sam keep the insane pace, the hard collision of flesh against flesh, groin against ass. He pushed harder, squeezing hard, squeezing longer, trying to keep Sam at the precipice for as long as he could. Even as he tried to accomplish that, the way Sam’s hand was wrapped around his cock, working it, the way his cock was slick and leaking, he was more than ready himself, especially when coupled with Sam’s pounding on his prostate.

Dean felt his balls draw up tightly and he arched, forcing Sam’s cock as deep as it would go. “Coming, coming now!” Dean almost shouted.

The instant Dean’s hot cum splattered against his stomach, Sam gave a hoarse shout and ground his hips harder against Dean’s ass, squeezing his eyes shut as white-hot heat ripped right through him. He gave a few more sharp thrusts, his fingers digging into Dean’s flesh each time Dean clenched around him, milking him. “I think... ah... we just broke a whole bunch of the firm’s rules,” he said between gasps. Before Dean could answer, he sought out his mouth and kissed him hard, like he’d never let him go. 

Dean allowed himself to get lost in Sam’s kiss, ignoring the passage of time, even the need to breathe. Everything that wasn’t Sam was of no concern to him. Wrapping his arms around Sam, he kept Sam in the kiss, the two of them only breaking apart long enough to grab quick gasps of air. 

They were both long since flaccid when Dean gave a final suck on Sam’s tongue and broke away from Sam’s lips. “I gotta see these rules that we’ve broken. I can’t imagine someone had enough balls to demand no sex on a desk. I mean c’mon, there’s more than one reason desks are as tall as they are.” He couldn’t help himself; his hands roamed up and down Sam’s muscular back.

“You _really_ want me to review the policy manual, page-by-page, clause-by-clause,” Sam asked, hanging onto Dean, unable to give him up just yet. “I can think of better things we can do...” He lifted his head and locked gazes with Dean. “It’s just hitting me now... that you can … that we can wake up together if we want.” There was a question in his voice.

“You really wanna wake up next to the guy who spills crumbs in your bed and on your floor, drinks from the bottle or carton, and steals your best ties?” Dean teased.

“Crazy, right?” Grinning, Sam gave him another kiss and slowly pulled back. Finding an envelope, he dropped the used condom inside. “Wouldn’t want to shock the janitors,” he muttered.

“I really doubt that would shock the janitor,” Dean said, thinking of some of the places he’d had sex.

As they both got cleaned up and pulled their pants up, Sam spoke again. “I’ll probably fall asleep on you tonight, and I have to get up early. I mean, if you’d rather we do it another night.”

“No matter how long it is, it’ll always be too short. Would it piss you off if we went to your place, and once you fell asleep, I left?” Dean asked.

“You have... appointments?” Sam looked up and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Let’s try it and...” Yeah, they’d have stuff to work through, he knew that. “Play it by ear,” he said.

“We were going to do dinner and then I figured you’d be crashing. I only cancelled the early appointments. Now that you and me can be together...I usually take off Sunday and Monday nights ‘cause they’re slow. We can make those your days and then...then the rest we play by ear. And Dude, not psychic here. If we try something and it bugs you, don’t be raking me across the coals. Tell me and we’ll figure out something different. Like tonight. You good with that?” Dean asked.

“I’m good with that,” Sam agreed. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that dinner, you said you cooked?” Giving a tired smile, he went to get his jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, then nodded towards it. “Dinner, then you can tuck me into bed. Good thing we already got the...” he   
nodded towards his desk, “outta the way.”

Dean slipped into his own jacket and moved up behind Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. “What? You don’t want a little dessert after dinner?” He nipped the side of Sam’s neck. 

“Does dessert start with a ‘D?’” Turning his head, Sam stole a kiss. “Mmm, yeah, definitely will take a second helping of that.”

* * *

[One week later]

Sam quickly shut the alarm off, then stayed snuggled against Dean for another few minutes. It wasn’t even five in the morning yet, but he had to get going and he knew it. Dropping a light kiss against Dean’s neck, Sam finally dragged himself out of bed.

After he was done in the bathroom, he padded back into his bedroom and started to get into his running clothes. 

“You know it’s probably a crime to get up this early. Especially if you’re not going to work or going fishing,” Dean said sleepily, but his gaze followed Sam everywhere and watched as his lover got dressed.

“You’re probably right. Did I wake you?” Sam asked, pulling his tank top on, then heading to the bed, and sitting on the edge. He had his socks in his hand. “I reset the alarm so you can sleep in a little.”

“Nah, I always wake up for peep shows,” Dean said, yawning and sitting up. He wrapped an arm around Sam’s mid-section, leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “No kissing Allen. No kissing old geezers. Or pretty women. Or young, good looking guys, you know, unless it’s me. Knock ‘em dead. Or at least kick their asses. I expect that trophy to be sitting on the dining room table tonight.”

“You’re not coming?” Sam swallowed his disappointment, though he realized security would be pretty tight and despite his boasting, Dean might not be able to get into the building and all the way to the top, unless he was a competitor. “What about the after-party? Free beer, and lots of good food. I’ll teach you how to salsa dance...” 

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. “I do not salsa dance. Hell, I don’t dance at all. Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll be there. Gimme a good luck kiss then get out of here.”

“Except when you’re drunk,” Sam reminded him. Cause they’d definitely danced. Bending over, he finished tying his sneakers, then he leaned across the bed. “You know which bank of elevators? I don’t want you to be waiting for me at the wrong place and--”

“Yeah, except when I’m drunk. Have faith. Go. You’ll be late. Turn the coffee pot on, on your way out. It’s already set up to brew.”

“Okay. And I’ll leave the croissants out for you but... no eating them in bed, seriously,” he said, before he gave Dean a hard kiss. “That’s what I’m gonna be thinking about during the race,” he vowed, meaning every word.

“Me eating biscuits in bed?” Dean asked, giving him a grope. “ _That’s_ what I’ll be thinking about during your race,” and with a final light squeeze of Sam’s balls, let his hand fall away.

“You’re incorrigible.” Grinning, Sam rose. “Yeah... I know, and a whole litany of things like adorable, irresistible... _etcetera etcetera ad nauseum_. You can remind me in the elevator,” he said heading out of the room before he changed his mind.

“Unless someone cuter makes it to the top before you,” Dean taunted.

* * *

The police had closed some of the streets around the building. Sam was sure if he worked in downtown Los Angeles and was trying to get in to work, he’d be pissed as hell by the traffic the event created. 

Those who had qualified as elite stair racers were allowed to mill about in the lobby for the time being. Most of the other racers outside, in the court area, did the race just to prove that they could. 

He watched as people were stopped and asked for ID’s, and turned away if they weren’t on the elite list. Security was real tight since they were allowing strangers into the commercial building in such large numbers. The longer Sam stood there, the more convinced he was that Dean wouldn’t make it inside. 

It would just mean that he wouldn’t get elevator sex, that was all, he told himself, as Allen walked up and brought him a shot of espresso. “Thanks,” Sam gave him a grin. “Kelly’s not here. I think we have a shot at it.”

Allen nodded. “He could still show up. Does it seem like the crowd’s larger than usual?”

Sam’s gaze skimmed over the crowd, both inside and outside, but he was looking only for one person. “A little.” He bent over and started to warm up.

Then the announcement came and the waiting crowd was split up into two groups, each going to a different stairwell. The rules were read over the speakers, and then the fake sound of a gun went off, and the racers ran for the stairwells.

At first, the crowd was thick and it was hard to move through them. But after about thirty floors, many slowed down and those with more energy started to pull away from the pack.

Sam had been training all year and was focused on just one thing. Winning. He put one foot ahead of the other, ignoring the strain on his body from the relentless pace of the climb. Higher, faster, win... the words were like a mantra in his head.

Sometimes his mind would wander to different places, like to Dean. But he’d turn his thoughts, and make them work for him, make himself visualize Dean waiting for him on the roof, even if it was unlikely.

By the time Sam made it out of the stairwell, sweat was dripping from his hair. A woman stood at the door and pointed to one more stairwell, “almost there,” she shouted at him as he ran.

Two more floors, and then he was on the roof, arms raised and shouting in triumph. Drinks were being passed out on the helicopter pad. He tried not to gulp down too much water at once as he got his stats. Twelve minutes and forty five seconds. He bent over and relaxed, closing his eyes. He’d come in second, but that was good enough for him. Next year... next year he’d beat Kelly. The guy had shown up after all.

*

Sam stalled as much as he could, but when he finally accepted that Dean wasn’t making it to the rooftop where the partying had started, he headed for the elevator bank.

“Hey, you want to share elevators?”

Sam turned and shook his head, “No, go ahead.” He knew what the invite entailed.

“Come on man... you’re the reason I keep trying. Sam...”

“Wait for this guy, Allen. He’s wearing a number 128... you won’t be sorry,” Sam told the guy who didn’t look half bad, then headed down the hall for the second elevator bank.

“If you’re going solo, mind if I catch a ride down?” a security guard asked, slipping into the elevator at the last moment, just before the doors closed. Taking off his hat, he tossed it on the floor. “Unless you don’t want me to,” Dean said, grinning. “Dude, I didn’t think you were ever going to leave.”

“I was.... waiting for you,” Sam explained. Breaking out of his shock, he quickly punched random buttons to make sure the elevator didn’t descend all the way to ground level too quickly, then he pulled Dean into his arms, squeezing his ass and molding him close as he thrust against him, trying to get hard as quickly as possible. 

“One of the problems with playing a role. Sometimes you gotta actually do the role. Sorry,” Dean said and pushed Sam back against the wall. “Hey, stop wiggling. Let the professional do the fluffing, huh?”

Getting down on his knees, Dean pulled Sam’s shorts down without hardly a by-your leave, and leaned in, sucking Sam’s dick into his mouth and playing with his balls.

Groaning, Sam gripped Dean’s shoulders and looked at the numbers flying by too quickly. “Might need to get off.... before lobby and go... back up...” he managed, but just barely as he thrust into Dean’s mouth.

Dean reached in his pocket and held up a key, then pointed to the panel. Pulling off Sam’s hardening cock he said, “Or you could just put in the firefighter’s key and stop the elevator...”

“MMmmfph...” Blindly grabbing the key from Dean, Sam inserted it, leaving it there for when they’d need it. Grabbing Dean’s shoulders, “a little more fluffing... fuck you’re good.”

“Course I am, I’m getting a steak dinner out of this, right?” Dean said as he used his hand to travel up and down the length of Sam’s cock. “More fluffing, yes, sir. Oh, and you can turn the key and just send it back up, then back down, then back up. Hmmm that’s a nice rhythm,” Dean said and sucked all of Sam back into his mouth.

The sound Sam made echoed around them in the small, enclosed space, and went up the elevator shaft. “Deannnn....”

* * * 

Earlier in the evening, Sam had been on the way home from the gym, when he’d seen Dean with his arm around some John. He’d tried not to watch them. Not to get jealous. Not to want to break that guy’s hand when it strayed over Dean’s ass. Mostly, he’d wished Dean hadn’t caught the look in his eyes.

Hours later, Sam had showered, done a little work, then settled in bed, watching TV. Ordinarily, Dean didn’t come over after he had appointments. He didn’t know it, but often, Sam listened for his door. Yeah, it was stupid, stupid, stupid.

Reaching for the remote, he started channel surfing, not really getting into anything. 

*

Dean waved to his last appointment of the evening as the guy headed toward the elevator. He neatly wrote down his hours and pay in the small ledger he used to keep track of it all so he was certain he always hit his mark. He grinned then looked up at the calendar and put the final mark through it.

After giving himself a thorough shower and getting rid of any last remnants of his earlier appointments, he dressed in a tight pair of jeans and tight black t-shirt, shaved fresh, and put on some light cologne. On his way out the door, he snagged the bag of presents he had for Sam, crossed the hall, and used his key to get in.

“You awake, Sammy?” he called, hearing the muted sounds of the TV coming from the bedroom. 

Sam lowered the volume. “Dean? Is something wrong?” Quickly scrambling out of the bed, he padded into the living room and stopped, seeing him in perfect health and all dressed and ready for his next appointment. “I thought maybe a hunt... What’s up. If you need a tie... _forget it_.”

“Sam,” Dean chided, “I’m definitely ready for my next appointment. What’s tomorrow?” At Sam’s blank look he rolled his eyes. “Valentine’s Day. Only scum would leave his boyfriend alone on the night before Valentine’s Day. I did my work. My hours are in, the cash is in. I got dressed up to look good for _you_ , Handsome.” He spread his arms, then held out the bag for Sam.

“Me?” He’d been out of sorts all night after seeing Dean and was having trouble getting his bearings. “You’re...” He licked his lips as it hit him, then took three long strides and walked into Dean’s arms, hugging him tight. “That’s it? You’re all mine now?” he asked, a little hesitantly. They hadn’t talked about it.

“Dude, why do you think I’ve been putting in so many hours the past few weeks. I wanted to make absolutely certain I met the contract. Hours worked, plus an extra handful for good measure. Money made, plus some extra, just because I don’t trust the Trickster. I didn’t want him pulling an ‘I forgot it was a leap year’ or ‘by the International Date Line I’m off by a day’ or something. So even if he tries to pull that, I got the hours in to cover the rest of the week, and the money too. To be safe, you probably ought to give me a couple pads of paper for whatever we get into for the next few days, you know?” He saw Sam’s look and laughed. “Yes, I’m yours. All yours from now on.” 

Hanging onto Dean, Sam kissed the side of his neck and drew in his scent. “Cologne... for me?” He felt like an idiot, repeating things. “I ah...” unable to express in words how happy he was, Sam merely sought Dean’s mouth and started to kiss him with everything he was feeling inside.

“Yes, for mmpfh--” Sam’s kiss cut off his words. He carefully set the bag of items down then wrapped his arms around Sam. The kiss wasn’t any different than any other hot, passionate kiss Sam had ever given him, Dean knew that in his head, but it still _felt_ different. He returned the passion with equal fervor, his hands running up Sam’s back, but forcing himself to keep them outside of Sam’s shirt. “Dude, pads of paper, bunch of pencils, box of tissues. Not breaking this contract at the last minute cause we got sloppy,” Dean panted. 

Sam finally peeled himself away. He was in shorts and his tee shirt, while Dean was dressed up and came bearing presents. “You can have... ah... should I get dressed?” 

“Depends. You wanna go out the night before Valentine’s Day, or you wanna stay home in bed? And we do have the next week at the cabin, right?”

“I’m free after 1 tomorrow,” Sam nodded. “I don’t want to go out.” Taking Dean’s hand, he lead him to the couch. “Maybe I should crack open a bottle of wine, or something.”

“Open your goodies, first,” Dean said holding out the bag as he settled on the couch.

Sam sat down next to him, leaned over and stole a kiss. “I can’t believe I forgot tonight is your last night.” He squeezed Dean’s leg, and shook his head, then picked up the bag. “Shouldn’t I be opening this tomorrow?”

“For once don’t be so OCD. You can open presents early when the giver of the presents says you can.” Dean shook his head and gave a chuckle.

“‘OCD’ is not what you think it is.” Seeing Dean’s look, Sam rolled his eyes and then dug into the bag. He chuckled as he pulled out a bottle, already knowing what it was. “It’s the wine we had in Sonoma,” he guessed, lifting the bottle and checking the label. “Here I thought you weren’t paying attention during the wine tasting.” Though he didn’t say it out loud, his expression reflected how touched he was that Dean had remembered the wine he’d declared his favorite.

Dean gave him a smirk. He’d made the server write down the name and year of that wine on a card that he now kept in his wallet. “A good hunter takes notice of everything. Even if it doesn’t look like they do. And I got an extra couple bottles packed to take with us to the cabin. And if you really had OCD, you’d make me call it CDO--so the letters are in alphabetical order.”

“You’re... on a roll.” Chuckling, Sam dug into the bag. His eyebrows rose as he felt a big rectangular box. When he pulled it out and saw it was a dust buster, he gave Dean a sharp look. No words needed to be exchanged to know Dean had brought it for the crumbs he kept leaving in the bed and other places.

Setting it aside, he pulled out a small box from a store he knew very well. “My introduction to hunting day,” he said, grinning as he opened it. Inside was a red tie, the exact replica of the one Dean had ‘borrowed.’ “I love it, great taste,” he said. “Maybe you can show me just how you used the original... without really reminding me that it was with... you know... some other Joe.”

“I will be happy to show you exactly how hot I look with a red silk tie covering my eyes,” Dean said. Seeing Sam start to set the bag aside he shook his head. “One more thing down in there.”

“Oops. Is it a romantic card?” Sam asked, digging inside once more. A frown marred his forehead as his hand closed around a scroll. “Wait...” His frown cleared and was replaced by a smile. “Is it a mystery, a new hunt?” Grinning broadly, he pulled out the scroll.

“No! It’s the scroll. The deal! You know, like I’m saying I’m giving myself to you and only you. That’s more romantic than a card...isn’t it? Or should I have just stuck with chocolates?” he finished, unsure. He wasn’t really used to the whole ‘romance for real’ concept.

“No. This is better than a card or chocolates,” Sam tossed the scroll onto the coffee table, then put his arm around Dean. “Giving yourself to me, and only me. You couldn’t have put it any better, I swear,” he said, knowing Dean had no idea about the emotions that had tortured Sam earlier that night. “Dean? I was going to wait until Valentine’s but... I love you,” Sam said, clearly and with no hesitation. “I do. I think I did right from the start.”

“What’s not to love?” Dean teased, but immediately grew serious. “Why do you think I kept chasing your dates away? You make me feel...you make me feel as awesome as I boast I am. And just so you know, with you, it’s not just sex. Never has been. ...Never wanted it to be. Just sex.” 

“You keep saying ‘sex’ like you want to hypnotize me. I think it’s working,” Sam whispered huskily, pulling Dean close and slanting his mouth over Dean’s in a long, heated kiss. Dean was really his. Well, technically, as of tomorrow, he’d be free of the contract. Free to spend every hour he wanted to with Sam.

As they kissed, Sam felt heat in the air. Literally. That had him pulling away and seeing that the scroll had burst into flames. Pulling his shirt off, he used it to kill the flames, then pushed the ashes to one side. “Sonova....” Looking up into the air, he shouted, “Do you have any idea how much that coffee table cost!” 

“He’s a god Sam, don’t piss him off,” Dean said. Looking at the ceiling, he asked, “So we good? We’re done here?” he asked and glanced at the time. Ten PM. Which made it midnight in Texas. “In good faith, I’m gonna assume we’re done,” he said, but he was still going to make Sam give him stuff for the next day or so, just to play it safe.

Grabbing Sam’s biceps, he tugged him back. “I’ll buy you a new table. My lips, they’re getting dry. I think I need you give me something in payment, because I’m paranoid, and then I think you need to help me wet my lips. And then make me wet anywhere else you want to. All night long. And you’re not going in to work tomorrow.”

“You can have the damned table,” Sam answered, still pissed off but slowly getting drawn into Dean’s plans for him. Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over Dean’s. “I gotta go in.... just in the morning. Now kiss me,” he demanded, enveloping Dean in his arms.

“I don’t need your used shit, just because they’re no longer perfection,” Dean snapped. “Stop being an ass. And you are not going in. We’re making love all night long, sleeping for a few hours, then heading out to the cabin. Where we will make love again. Many, many times.”

“The hell... you’d rather have legal pads than a burned table? Fine... five legal pads, you happy?” Sam asked. “And I’m on board with making love... all night,” he kissed Dean’s neck, feeling his pulse jump under his lips, though it might be due to his sudden temper. “But still gotta go in, I have to finish something.” He started to push Dean’s shirt up his chest.

“Oh,” Dean finally answered about the table being his payment. “Sorry,” he said, sort of embarrassed. “Legal pads or table is good. Hell, I’ll take both. What do you have to finish that can’t wait until we get back? Or have one of your associates do it and fax it over to you to sign. I want you to be all mine for the next handful of days.”

“I’ll go in, get it done, and be back. You won’t miss me,” Sam promised, tugging Dean’s shirt up and over his head. Putting his hands on Dean’s sides, he slid them up and down, his thumbs caressing Dean’s nipples. Dipping his head, he licked a path up the center of Dean’s chest, slowly making his way toward his nipple.

“Of course I’ll miss you,” Dean said, sucking his breath in sharply when Sam’s mouth found his nipple. “Just stay with me,” he managed to get out between groans of pleasure.

“Mmph... no, can’t,” Sam sucked Dean’s nipple into his mouth. Wanting more, he started to push Dean back, encouraging him to lay down. “I’ll go in early. Be in and out before you’re up and around,” he promised, running his hands up Dean’s chest and slowly leaning over him to claim a kiss.

“My first whole day, all yours, and you’re gonna work part of it? You’ve lost all future rights to giving me shit over missing special occasions if I’m off hunting. Just so you know that,” Dean complained, giving him a mild glare before lifting his head slightly so they could kiss, as he slapped a hand down on either of Sam’s butt cheeks and pulled him closer. 

Groaning at the hard contact between their bodies, Sam shifted, pushing his knee between Dean’s legs. “I never give you shit... I just... I’ll just   
make sure I’m with you,” Sam said.

“Then while you’re off player lawyerman I’ll do the laundry. Wash all our clothes...together...”

“What? No,” Sam raised himself up and stared into Dean’s eyes. “We agreed, you don’t touch laundry.” He’d caught Dean haphazardly throwing whites and colors into the machine, and snorting at the idea of turning things inside out. It was the last time Dean was allowed to touch his clothes. “Dean, threatening violence against clothes... that’s extortion.” There was a hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips, despite Sam’s very real exasperation. 

“Yep. Sure is. Is somebody’s life or freedom at stake? Cause if not, I’m just gonna handcuff you now and we’re headed to the cabin tonight,” Dean said, grinning at him but with a quite serious light in his eyes.

“That’s kidnapping.” Shaking his head, Sam relented. “I’ll work in the morning, right here, transfer the file to the office. I’ll get an associate to finish it up for me. Deal?” he asked, his gaze dropping to Dean’s lips. He gave a subtle wiggle of his hips, hoping to get Dean a little less focused on his schedule, and a lot more focused on the bulge between his legs.

“Let’s not even go into the number of laws I’ve broken through the years as a hunter,” Dean said, giving a groan as Sam wriggled against him. “Like I wouldn’t do kidnapping if I had to.” Looking into Sam’s face he gave a sigh and a nod. “Alright. I guess that’s a compromise I can live with. But I get to interrupt you once every half hour to ask questions about what we’re taking, feed you, or just maul you once in a while. Deal?”

“I’ve never had anyone under my desk while I was working,” Sam said, his breath catching in his throat at the thought. “Yeah, maul me now, maul me later, and maul me in the morning,” he said, drawing Dean into his arms for another kiss. “Just never stop mauling me,” he whispered, bring his mouth down hard over Dean’s.

Dean smiled against his lips and held him close, kissing him back just as hard. 

EPILOGUE/NEXT MORNING:

Dean rose extra early in the morning because he wanted to get the coffee going for Sam and cook him up a real breakfast of waffles and bacon. As he flipped the light on in the living room, he noticed something on the now burn-scarred coffee table. Walking over to it, his eyes widened and he snatched up the stack of bills. It was the fee he’d charge for watching him have sex with someone, but the images on the bills were of the trickster. “You sonuvabitch!” Dean growled. “You watched!”

If Dean didn’t know better he’d swear he heard distant laughter fading away to silence.

The End

(A/N: We are so very sorry for the lengthy delay of this chapter. We don't know if this will make up for it, but we tossed up a very light, quick, extra fluffy ficlet time stamp for our gift!verse as a way of appologizing. After the season finale, a lot of us need some fluffiness. So, thank you for bearing with us, and here is the link to the ficlet: [Step This Way To The Ficlet ](http://brimstonegold.livejournal.com/18649.html) )

(A/N2: You may wish to go to the master post to take a look at the fabulous video banner made for this fic - now that you've read the fic, the video will be more in context.)


End file.
